Heaven's Feel Alchemist
by Maxxus Herald
Summary: The Third True Magic, the Heaven's Feel, allows for the materialization of the soul. It belonged to the Einzbern family, who focused solely on alchemy. It stands to reason that the Heaven's Feel is also some form of alchemy. When Illya von Einzbern enacts an incomplete version of it to save the life of a loved one, she opens the "Gate of Heaven." Yeah, this isn't going to end well.
1. Ch000 - Memory 01

**A/N: [9/30/2017]: This a buffer line to keep the following line centered. FFnet doesn't allow centering on the first line for some reason.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch000

Memory 01

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern was a relatively carefree girl. Why wouldn't she be? She had the Heroic Spirit Herakles as Berserker and the financial backing of the von Einzbern family. Combined with her magecraft, there was very little in the world that could hope to oppose her.

Sure, she wouldn't live to see 20 due to the enhancements her family gave her for the Holy Grail War, but that was fine as long as she completed her goals. Sure, her body would never grow to adulthood, but that was fine as long as she took care of that boy who stole her father from her. Sure, she might have been just be a tool for Old Man Acht, but at least she wouldn't have to see his face anymore once she died.

Now if only the miserable old bastard would stop magically cramming the entire library of Einzbern alchemy into her brain, things would be perfect.

When only two days remained until her flight to Japan, Illya thought to herself that there were better things she could have been doing to prepare. After all, if Old Man Acht really thought that this was necessary to win then he would have done it ages ago. Illya pondered asking for a gun as well just to see the old man lose it, but decided against it.

There's no point, and soon she'd never have to see his stupid wrinkly face again.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern wakes up surrounded by white. Aside from herself, there is nothing but white as far as the eye can see. Even the horizon ceases to exist in the white void she somehow stands in.

"Is this..." Illya trails off, realizing she doesn't know what she really wants to say. The afterlife? Heaven? Hell? The Swirl of the Root?

Suddenly, she isn't alone. There is a white void in front of her in the shape of a young girl. It is outlined, somehow, with a strange darkness that fades into the white surroundings.

"Hello, Ms. Homunculus," the white void creature says with many voices at once. "You've done a very naughty thing, haven't you?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Illya asks, still a little off-balance from her sudden arrival. "And who are you?"

"Who am I?" the creature repeats, giggling softly. "One name you might have for me is the world, or perhaps the universe, or perhaps God, or perhaps the Truth. I am All, and I am One. So, of course, this also means that I am you."

The girl-like figure points Its finger at Illya. Illya hears a loud groan behind her. She turns to find a massive rectangular set of double doors. A depiction of the Lesser Grail below the Greater Grail, covered and surrounded by Einzbern Alchemy formulas, is inscribed into its stone surface. It is opening, and inside there is nothing but darkness.

"Welcome, you stupid fool who doesn't know her place."

A ripple-patterned eye opens vertically within the open gateway. Beside it, hands made of shadow form. Illya turns to run.

"I am the truth of your despair, the inescapable price of your boastfulness."

The hands reach out on the tips of shadowy tendrils. They grab the girl, wrapping around her and keeping her from fleeing. She screams in fear.

"And now, I will bestow upon you the despair you deserve."

"Onii-chan! Onii-chan, help me!" she screams as she is pulled backwards into the gate. The doors start to close around her. The white creature smiles widely, its teeth unnerving on Its otherwise featureless face.

"Don't scream so much. I'm still giving you what you want."

Illya struggles to stay out of the gate, but it doesn't make a difference. She is bound inside it with no way of escaping. Just before the door slams shut, she thinks she sees the ghostly image of her mother, father, and brother leave her body and fly toward the white creature.

"I will show you the Truth."

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern falls through the darkness. The familiar sensation of having knowledge being crammed into her head, of being forced to understand formula after formula and theorem after theorem without pause. The scale is vastly different this time, as the massive amounts of knowledge she is being made to absorb make her head feel like it's going to burst.

As she screams, she finds that she has a more complete knowledge of the Einzbern alchemy. How to perform every alchemical accomplishment her family has ever achieved. How to accomplish every alchemical endeavor her family ever failed.

But who is this brilliantly smiling woman with white hair and red eyes?

She knows how to make every potion the Einzberns have ever made. She knows how to use every transmutation magecraft her family has ever used. She knows how to craft every alchemy related mystic code they've ever created.

But who is this awkwardly happy man with black hair and black garb?

She becomes aware that she has almost complete knowledge of the Heaven's Feel. How the ritual works in all the variant forms it can take. How the True Magic works, inside and out.

But who is this red haired boy with wide shoulders that she can only see the protective back of?

She understands that she is being deconstructed. How her physical form is being torn apart. How she is being dismantled atom by atom. How she is being unmade even as more knowledge is crammed in to her pain filled mind.

But who is Illyaviel von Einzbern?

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 01**


	2. Ch001 - Heaven's Feel 01

**A/N: Don't expect this update speed to keep.**

 **As requested by gabe. .1997, I would like to note that this is indeed the Heaven's Feel route Illya. Though, as you'll soon notice, that won't matter for a while.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch001

Heaven's Feel 01

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern wakes up with the sun in her eyes. She doesn't appreciate it very much, and rolls over to go back to sleep. This results in a face full of sand.

Curious, she sits up and looks around. It takes only a moment for her to figure out that she is in a desert. Her eyes narrow, more out of contemplation than to keep the sun out of them.

"Why am I in a desert?" Illya thinks to herself. "How did I get here? And where exactly _is_ here?"

Further contemplation is interrupted by her stomach groaning. She gives it an annoyed glance. She is distracted from her hunger with the sudden realization that she is wearing a cute purple dress.

"I own a dress?" she puzzles. "Well, if it's a loan I don't think I'll be able to return it."

Her stomach growls again. She decides that she should eat first. Thinking could come after she's certain she won't pass out.

She looks around for something to eat. Her eyes are drawn to a decent sized rock. A lizard is hiding in its shadow, avoiding the sun's rays.

Their gazes meet. There is a tingling sensation as the magic circuits in her eyes are flooded with prana, activating her Mystic Eyes of Binding on the poor creature. Now paralyzed, the lizard can do nothing as the girl walks over and crushes its head under her boot.

The wind blows by and pushes several locks of white hair into her face. She brushes them aside, mentally filing away the fact that her hair is white. Eat first, think after.

Not really knowing how to cook, she decides that burning it will have to do. One fire spell later and Illya has a half charcoal lizard. She makes a note to get better at cooking.

"This... won't provide much nourishment," she comments aloud. "I can use Reinforcement to enhance its 'purpose of existence.' Since the purpose of food is to provide nourishment, I should be able to work with this."

Unfortunately, Illya uses too much prana for the Reinforcement. This causes her meal to break and fall into pebble sized pieces. Her stomach rumbles in displeasure.

The girl sits down on the rock to think. She immediately jumps back up with a cute yelp when she realizes how hot it is. She gives it a stern glare.

The small homunculus looks around again to see if there is any indicator as to where she is. Again she finds nothing aside from the rock half as big as she is. She lets out a huff of annoyance.

"What do I know?" she thinks to herself, giving up on food for now. "My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern. I am an Justeaze model Einzbern homuculus. I know Einzbern Alchemy. I know Magecraft.

I know the third True Magic, Heaven's Feel, but haven't implemented it yet. Until I do, I still need this body. I'll try to keep it afterwards, see if I can't do anything with it.

I have Mystic Eyes of Binding. I have the image of a black-haired man, another Justeaze model Einzbern homunculus, and a boy with red hair imprinted in my memory."

Illya paces as she thinks, the action helping to direct her thoughts. She combs over her memories, drawing an increasingly alarming amount of blanks. Just what had happened to her?

"I remember preparing leave so I could fight in the Holy Grail War, but I can't remember where I was leaving from or to. I remember Old Man Acht's face, that he's a jerk, and him putting the Einzbern Alchemy in my head. I remember the white void and the Gate."

She really wishes she didn't. That white creature, that Truth is creepy. She supposes all truths can be creepy, but she notes that this one is especially so.

"I remember... being pulled through."

Which was really scary. She remembers screaming for someone to save her, but who was it? She can't remember.

Her stomach growls again.

"I am hungry."

She walks around the rock in hopes of finding another lizard, but doesn't see any.

"What do I not know?" she continues. "I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I don't know how long I've been activated. I don't know which direction will lead back to civilization."

The sun is starting to get rather high in the sky. Realizing inaction will bring her death more surely than action, she picks a direction and starts walking. The desert can't be so large that she can't walk to the edge in a day or two, right?

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern notes that it's been five days. Five days in the blistering heat and water-stealing sand. If she didn't know a spell for gathering water from what miniscule amount there is in the air, she would have died. After five days in the desert trying to stay alive, dying now would feel like losing to the desert.

"I don't like to lose," she added to her mental list of things she knows.

Maybe worse is that not a single person in her family bothered to make sunscreen in the thousands of years of Einzbern Alchemy research. Non-transmutation spells don't work, so Illya couldn't block out the sun and was sunburnt by the first nightfall. She has her theories on why, but it doesn't really matter when she doesn't have the tool to test it.

The white-haired girl ended up spending the entire first night crafting a spell to transmute the light to a lesser intensity just as it's about to land on her. It uses a miniscule amount of Prana, but that's still enough to tire the average magus if left active for hours on end. Fortunately, she is anything but average.

Today she found some ruins. There are some broken carvings that look like they were some kind of formalcraft circles. More importantly, there is shade, shelter, and _water_. There are plenty of little reptiles for her to practice reinforcing into proper meals because of this.

One nourishing meal and proper hydrating later, Illya realizes that she's excited. She was originally planning to stay the night and keep going in the morning, but she's interested in the ruins. There's a lot more rock here than she ever remembers seeing. Trees, as well.

She thinks it is a little odd that she remembers what trees are even though she can't remember ever seeing one.

"Perhaps there is something interesting hidden here," she hums a nameless tune with a small smile on her face.

She giggles happily as she thinks about her face. She finally got to see her face because of the pool of water. She hadn't realized it, but she had been uncertain about whether she was actually an Einzbern homunculus. Until she had seen her own ruby red eyes and facial structure, she had been worried about whether what she knew about herself was true. It was a surprising relief to find she had all the markers of being an Einzbern homunculus.

"Hm... there really isn't anything left to do tonight, is there?"

Illya thinks about it for a few minutes. She needs to find a major leyline before she could perform the original Heaven's Feel and immortalize her soul. Since that's nowhere to be found, there really isn't anything to do but sleep.

A few more minutes of thinking on her current state forces her to realize that she would like someone to talk to.

"I have the Dress of Heaven. Maybe I should try it on, just to make sure it still works. What if how I got to this desert caused it to malfunction?" she ponders.

Taking a chance, Illya attempts to materialize the Dress in the manner inscribed upon her mind. She immediately succeeds, replacing her purple dress with a regal white gown that ends shortly below her crotch, four empty gold rings holding the Dress together down the middle.

She would be worried about where her purple dress went to if she didn't know how the Dress worked.

The fifth of the rings, the part of the mystic code that make it unusable by non-homunculi, is embedded in the front of the seven pointed crown atop her head. The final two are crafted into the shoulders, hidden by the top-most layer of the Dress. The sleeves of the Dress are long, and would brush against the ground if her hands were to go any lower than her hips. Hanging from her neck, the red sash with alchemic symbols of sewn gold reaches her ankles at both ends, drawing the eye next to her white thigh-high boots with thick one-inch platform heels.

The young girl nods happily to herself in satisfaction at her divine appearance.

"I don't really need it now that I can use the Third Magic, but I guess I should keep it. If nothing else, it'll help guide the Third Magic," Illya proposes the idea to her reflection in the water. She frowns. Something isn't adding up.

"I can use the Third Magic, but was it because I saw the Truth or because I won the Holy Grail War?" she thinks to herself, "If I won, how am I still alive? I should have become unable to funtion as a human after absorbing all the servants since I'm the Lesser Grail."

She considers using spiritual transmutation to force the return of her memories, but discards the idea as dangerous. Without some idea of what she's trying to retrieve, there's just too many holes in the equation for it to possibly work. Even if she could get it to work, who knows what it would do to her?

The red-eyed girl also considers using her family's Wishcraft sorcery trait to regain her memories. Wishcraft is a strange ability that uses extreme amounts of prana to brute force the desired results, completely bypassing the normal required processes. However, she's currently alone in a desert. Even with food, water, and shelter, she can't affort to use so much prana. What if a monster is drawn in by the prana she emits and attacks her while she's weak?

In the end, it isn't possible right now. Illya's first idea is shelved until she can get an idea of what she's trying to remember. The second is similarly shelved until she can find a safe place to try it. Since it's impossible to know when the former will happen, she decides to get started on the latter.

"Ugh! Annoying!" the little girl puffs out her cheeks and pouts.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern taps the wall daintily, using alchemy to change the number of days she'd spent in the ruins to four. She won't be staying much longer. She's stockpiled enough food for her trip and made some basic canteens from the metals in the sand.

She sighs at the thought of going back out into the hot sun. The ruins were much more preferable. Her clothes got worn out less here than out in the unsheltered desert.

Not that it's really an issue when her alchemy skills are good enough to repair it.

Well, there really wasn't anything left for her here in the ruins anyways. She already explored everywhere she could, and she couldn't read any of the alchemic circles due to them being in a language she doesn't know. The rest of the time was spent analyzing the magecraft she can use and scouting with bird-shaped familiars made from her hair.

It turns out that most magecraft simply won't work. The only processes she can perform are transmutations and other alchemy-based spells. That's fortunate for her since much of the Einzbern magecraft is entirely in alchemy. Whether it be material transmutations or spiritual transmutations, making potions or making homunculi, the Einzberns have done almost everything.

It's why she could use her bird familiars to scout for her and figure out her desired route. They're alchemy-based. By filling her hair with Prana and writing some instructions into it, she basically makes remote control drones. The drone then sends images by turning some of its Prana into the spiritual equivalent of radio waves. With the hair still on her head being used as the receiver, she can then translate those waves back into images in her mind. She can then turn it the other way and send new instructions to the bird-shaped hair familiar.

Her Mystic Eyes of Binding are another story. They still function because they're different enough from actual spells, even though they're mental interference rather than alchemy related. From what she can figure out, it's because they were forged in a manner similar to a Magic Crest. They either count as a part of her body and are therefore natural abilities, or as a mystic code like the Dress of Heaven, which also works normally.

Heaven's Feel, the Third True Magic, isn't something she can use right now and has to be left for later.

Technical details of her thaumaturgy aside, it amused her to find out she knew three different languages. She found out while swearing at the ruins she couldn't read. English was the first to come out and is some sort of trade language. Japanese came out next. It's fun to speak and has some strange feelings of affection attached to it. German feels most natural, though that is only to be expected from a family that is based in *******.

"There it is again," Illya pouts.

It was odd for her to find out that there are some things she just _knows_. Like the names of the languages she can speak. They just seem like common knowledge. However, when she actually stops to think about it, the connecting information that would make it simple logic is missing!

Really, the gaps in her memories are rough and jarring. It's annoying, like an itch or hiccup that won't go away. She wants to get it fixed as soon as possible.

So Illya set a goal. There are three people etched in her memory, as well as that mysterious person she was calling out to for help. All of them feel important to her, like they were close before she forgot everything about them. She plans to find them in hopes that they can fix it, or at least help her remember something.

Now the only question is where to go. Given the direction of sunrise and sunset, she figures she's been walking west. Her familiars have detected a country in that direction.

However, her familiars have also found a country the way she came from. She could have been there in two or three days if she had gone east instead of west. Now she's in the middle of the two and has to decide where to go.

"Since there's no way of knowing which way is right, I'll just keep going the way I've been going," Illya thinks aloud. It's getting to be a habit. She should probably stop. Someone might look at her funny when she gets to civilization.

"Plus, I like the clothing in the west more."

Like so, her future is decided.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 02**


	3. Ch002 - Heaven's Feel 02

**A/N: Uploading earlier than expected. I will accept praise, if you have any.**

 **Shadow of a Memory [Chapter 001, 1/15/2017]: It went through the first time. Illya's point in the timeline will be established within the first five chapters. By the way, I like how you phrased that. Ouroboros homunculi. Hope you don't mind if I use it.**

 **Guest [Chapter 001, 1/17/2017]: I'm not sure where you got creating souls into your head from or how it would connect to an immortal body. However, your question is one I expect someone who finds out about the Heaven's Feel might ask. Thanks a lot for the material. You can expect a more elaborate answer in-story. ... Probably much later.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch002

Heaven's Feel 02

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzern steps onto the dry grass with a smile. Though it's only a tiny patch poking through the sand, it clearly signals that she's at the end of the desert. The white haired girl is all too pleased to be away from the harsh sun and shifting sands.

The horizon only pleases her more. Even from here and through the sand kicked up by the wind, she can see the green of leaves swaying. She can hardly wait to be in the shade.

Still, Illya is a smart girl and doesn't rush. Her bird familiars, her Zelle, have confirmed time and again that it isn't a mirage. That wonderful shelter from the horrid heat is exactly as far away as it looks.

These, of course, are her excuses to herself. She's thoroughly fatigued from trudging through the sand for a full week. Sand is already hard to walk in, and with her childish body's short legs she has to take far more steps than she'd like.

"Soon it will all be over," the girl mutters to herself, "No more sand."

Illya gathers some water from the air, condensing it in her cupped hands. She drinks slowly. She learned the hard way that drinking too fast when active like this will make her puke.

She eagerly puts one foot in front of the other as she imagines a pool of water larger than any she ever remembers seeing. Cool, blue liquid that she can just sink into, all the way up to her neck. It has to stretch at least ten meters in all directions, and be deep enough to stand in. She has to be able to go completely under, just so she can pop back out and be soaked in heat-absorbing water.

"Mm..." the homonculus daydreams.

She is abruptly awakened by a strange phenomena. She stills mid-stride and glances downward. A chill travels up her spine, and not the pleasant one she had been imagining only moments before.

There is a gigantic, writhing mass of souls deep underneath the ground.

Illya can detect it. Any magus worth their salt could, if they could get close enough. Though the hundreds of tons of rock might get in the way of a lesser magus' senses, the white haired girl is an Einzbern alchemist. Her family's best work environments are enclosed stone spaces. They can sense power through stone better than most.

The mass beneath her is nothing if not powerful.

That isn't to say the distance and dirt don't interfere. She can't make out any details, and the souls feel like distant whispers. Still, it's the whispers of a crowd so large that distance doesn't matter.

"What could have done this?" Illya ponders aloud as she frowns at her place in the sand. "Souls disperse within minutes without an anchor. Anything that anchors so many souls in a single place..."

The red-eyed girl leaves the thought unfinished. She doesn't have enough information to come to a conclusion. She can only assume, and making assumptions is not a good idea when it comes to magecraft.

There is a reason they say that being a magus is to walk with death, after all.

However, Illya has a plan!

She's been supplementing her food with animals killed using her familiars. Since each one is strengthened and toughened by her magecraft, they can kill and carry small animals back to her. They can't fire beams anymore, though.

In any case, a familiar's original role is scouting. By sharing senses with the familiar, a magus could remotely monitor locations for all sorts of reasons. Though her method of doing so would be a little different since it's alchemy-based, the results should be the same.

Illya never bothered to let the bird-like ones she created touch the ground since there was no need, but that has changed.

The homuculus girl recalls one of her familiars. It's about half an hour flight away, so she makes preparations in the meantime. Using alchemy, she rearranges the sand into a hard wall. It is given a half-dome shape to help bleed off damage in case there's an explosion.

Truth be told, it's only packed sand. It'll break right away if an explosion happens. Heck, a strong enough wind would make it fall apart. Even so, as long as it absorbs the impact of any detonations then it's done its job.

When the familiar arrives, she lands it on a tuft of grass about fifty meters away.

"Nothing," Illya hums. "That's good. Now, let's see how wide this is."

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern steps onto the green grass with a frown. Though it's only a tiny patch poking through the packed earth, it clearly signals that she's at the edge of town. The white haired girl has mixed feelings about it.

On one hand, she can now look for a place to stay the night. On the other, she's none too pleased to be above such a strange unknown. The underground mass of souls is unnerving.

Well, it probably won't hurt her. She tested it for a whole day using her familiars before daring to trespass. The haunted land is wide, spanning at least a hundred and twenty kilometers. Regardless if it's that large city to the southeast or the mountain range in the north, the mass of souls is still there.

Despite its how far-reaching it is, it doesn't seem to be doing anything. People, plants, and animals live above it without any noticeable effect. The old, the young, and the infirm show no signs of damage or alteration from the anchored souls they live above.

That being the case, it's probably safe to walk above them.

As the red eyed girl saunters into the mining town, she ponders on the other information her familiars picked up.

First and foremost, there is a castle in the mountains that she can use to perform the ritual. It looks abandoned from the outside, and is still sealed from the elements well enough that her familiars can't get in. At least, not without breaking the seal. She doesn't plan on touching them until she can investigate in person.

Second, from the newspapers she's discovered that this country speaks English. More importantly, alchemy is practiced out in the open. Not only that, but it is being used for military purposes. It confuses her greatly.

Who was the idiot who set this up? Every magus knows that secrecy is paramount. The power of magecraft is in its mystery. If everyone knows about it, it gets weaker. If everyone knows how it works, it becomes practically worthless.

It's seems to her that magecraft has weakened. It's the obvious answer. These public alchemists need to draw formalcraft circles for simple repair jobs. They can repair entire streets, so they must at least know what they're doing. This is based on her own knowledge of magecraft and alchemy, though. Perhaps the people of this country know something she doesn't?

"Hey!" a loud voice calls out somewhere to the girl's left. Turning to see what made the annoying sound, Illya finds a blond haired boy with a worn cap and a bandage across his nose. He wears a shit-eating grin as he waives from his place against the railing of his front porch.

It dawns upon her that this is the first human being she's met since waking up in the desert. Additionally, maybe she shouldn't get so deep into thought while walking. She walked right past the inn her familiars identified. Granted, the town is small enough that it only means she missed it by four buildings, but it's still embarrassing.

"Hi! I'm Jacob Toshner! What's your name?"

Illya wishes that the friend of every magus ever, the basic hypnosis spell, was some sort of transmutation. Then she could just hypnotize this kid into telling what she wants and erase his memory of her. It isn't, however, so she can't.

"Hello~! My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern! Pleased to meet you!" she introduces herself with a cute smile and a curtsy in the interest of being polite.

She's a lady, after all.

The blond youth sputters, struck dumb by the grace and charm of this girl. To be fair, Jacob never had a chance. He's a regular country bumpkin, while Illya is a Justeaze model Einzbern homunculus. She's a literal otherworldly, supernatural beauty.

Not that she actually remembers being otherworldly.

"Is there something you needed?" Illya asks, jolting the boy back to reality. His face reddens as he realizes he zoned out.

"Y-yeah! Are you Ishvalan?" Jacob blurts out in a hurry, eager to cover up his embarrassment.

Illya turns the term over in her mind. It doesn't sound familiar. Still, if she looks 'Ishvalan,' then it could be useful.

"Ishvalan? What's that?" she tilts her head in (faked) innocent curiosity.

"What? You don't know?" the boy exclaims. He then proceeds to puff out his chest and preen himself over the fact he knows more than this 'city girl.' As for why she's a city girl, her skin is too smooth and pale to be a country girl.

"Ishvalans are people with white hair, red eyes, and dark skin," Jacob explains. "You have white hair and red eyes, but your skin isn't dark so I didn't know if you're actually Ishvalan or not."

"I'm probably not Ishvalan. I can't say for sure since I've never met any."

Not to mention that she has no idea if Justeaze was Ishvalan. It isn't likely if Ishvalans have dark skin, but given all the holes in her memory there's no way to be certain.

"Does that mean you've never been to Ishval?"

"I just said I've never met any Ishvalans, geez," the homunculus frowns in a criminally cute manner, "If Ishvalans come from Ishval, then I've never been there."

"Well..." the boy hesitates, "Where are you from, then?"

"The North," she tells him innocently. It's even probably true. The Einzberns come from the north. Her model base, Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern, was known as the "Master of Northern Alchemy," so they must have! Probably.

"Where in the North?" Jacob follows up eagerly, seeing a mystery before him.

"It's a secret."

Illya giggles at the boy's resulting pout. Before anything else can be said, a woman's scream sounds from the boy's home. Surprised and scared, Jacob freezes.

"Mom!" he shouts, terrified. He turns and bolts into the house.

Illya decides to follow. This might become useful. Heroes are always welcomed by their saviors, and if that doesn't work then the person she saved will owe her a favor.

She badly wants a soft bed and a warm bath.

Illya enters the crime scene to find a woman in her late twenties with a knife in the gut. Two thuggish men are also in the room. One stands over her and the other is riffling through a jewelry box.

"Get away from my mom!"

She also enters just in time to see Jacob try to rush one of the robbers. Predictably, the boy is picked up, punched in the gut, and tossed to the side to whimper in pain. It was actually a very smooth series of motions. The robber standing above the woman must have practiced it a lot.

Not that it matters. Illya takes out two pieces of her hair and transforms them into sword-shaped familiars. The child-punching robber is the only one looking her way, but he loses his chance to react due to his shock.

After all, how else would you react to a white-haired child with a pair of glowing, ornate, latticework greatswords floating above each hand?

Both men die of impalement and system shock moments later, pinned to the wall opposite an innocently smiling girl. For the most part, she's glad that even a weak sword-shaped familiar is capable of taking out normal people. She was worried that it might be different since magecraft is weaker here.

She frowns at that thought. Her Degen, the sword familiar, didn't feel any weaker than it should given the amount of prana and instructions she put into it. In fact, her bird-shaped familiars feel just fine as well.

"Is it because they're alchemy-based?" she ponders under her breath, "Perhaps the thaumaturgical theory embedded in the land has given up all other forms of magecraft in order to allow alchemy at regular strength despite its mystery becoming weak?"

"M-mom...!" Jacob calls though gasping breaths and gritted teeth, crawling through the pain toward his mother. It reminds Illya that perhaps she should do something about the knife wound if she wants that favor.

Illya frowns as she tries to figure out what to do. While her family has some skill with healing magecraft, that particular skill set isn't alchemy. Even if it was, the von Einzberns only really know enough for emergency treatment.

The reason for why that is... isn't important right now.

Going over what she knows of human anatomy and emergency treatment, Illya gathers the necessary tools to help her succeed. Which is to say she transmutes it from random things lying around the house. Even if they had a first aid kit, Jacob isn't coherent enough to help find it in time. Illya figures they'll forgive her since she's saving a mother's life.

It's halfway through her emergency care that a wild and bearded man bursts into the room with an axe.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 03**


	4. Ch003 - Heaven's Feel 03

**A/N: I'm on a roll! Now that I've said that, though, you should expect the next update to take awhile. It's very likely that I've jinxed myself.**

 **Sceonn [Chapter 002, 2/13/2017]: Good point. Thank you. Edited a little. She's still going to have misconceptions simply by virtue that all alchemy she knows of is magecraft. That implies certain rules. She doesn't know she's in a different world.**

 **victimsofrage [Chapter 002, 2/14/2017]: Me too. However, work and school have the priority. Apparently I'm supposed to be "responsible," whatever that means.**  
 **In any case, I suppose I'll have to disappoint this time as well. This chapter is about a little shorter than the last, which was two hundred shorter than the one before it.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch003

Heaven's Feel 03

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern looks over the rugged man who stares at her with an uncomfortable intensity. She's actually quite sure she's suffered worse from Berserker and Old Man Acht, but with them she knows what it's for and what to do. This man is an armed stranger and she's in the middle of treating an injured woman. Who knows what he'll-

"Dad!"

"Laura! Jacob!"

The simultaneous cries put to rest any real concern Illya has. It isn't like she was in real danger anyway. If he became hostile, she could have just used the wire she transmuted to tie him up. She still can, for that matter.

She makes sure to stay aware of him, but gets back to the important work of securing a hot ba- giving this "Laura" woman emergency treatment. After all, she doesn't actually know what she's doing. She's taking her extensive knowledge of anatomy, useless knowledge of healing magecraft, and partial knowledge of first aid and using it to extrapolate on what needs to be done. That requires concentration.

The father looks over the impaled men and quickly figures it's safe enough for him to call the doctor over. He has a whispered conversation with his son, then hands over a sharp looking knife before heading out. Jacob does his best to pull himself over to his mother as soon as his father turns his back.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asks the white-haired girl.

Illya considers it only a second.

"No."

She hardly even knows what she's doing herself! Why would she add a person who knows even less to the equation? That's just asking for mistakes to be made, and her bath- someone's life is on the line!

At least the boy has the good sense to keep quiet while she works.

"Hey, Illya... you're an alchemist, right?"

Or not.

"I am," she admits absentmindedly. She's a little busy at the moment. Besides, if alchemists are already public then one more won't matter. As long as they don't know she's a magus then... something?

Illya frowns at the blank in her memories but puts it off for later.

"Can't you use alchemy to heal my mom?" Jacob swallows his nervous spittle before asking the expected question.

"No, I- Wait," Illya changes her mind as various Einzbern formulas come to mind. "I could, if I had a functioning and fully stocked workshop."

"Really? Mr. Johnson has a workshop!" Jacob announces eagerly. "I sometimes help him make chairs!"

Illya frowns. This boy is loud. Additionally, he apparently doesn't a properly functioning brain. Who would use a carpentry workshop for careful alchemy? That's like using a tool shed for magical research!

"It's not that kind of workshop. I need a special one, for my special alchemy."

"Oh..."

It doesn't take long before Illya finishes doing all she can. Less than a minute passes after that when the father returns with a sandy-haired man in a white labcoat. The doctor is middle aged and carrying a pair of long sticks wrapped in cloth. It takes Illya a second to realize that it's a simple emergency stretcher.

"Ryan, you take that side!" the doctor instructs as he prepares the man's wife for transport. He almost pauses at the sight of two glowing wireframe swords impaling a pair of very dead men, but apparently decides that he has more pressing matters.

Illya holds back a thoughtful hum. She had forgotten about her sword-shaped familiars. Since it's best not leave them lying around, she sends a signal to dismiss them. They each turn back into a long thread of white hair. She walks over and purposely over-Reinforces them, destroying them for the sake of hiding evidence.

The girl turns around to find that everyone else is leaving, even the injured Jacob. With little else to do here, Illya follows. When the door closes, the thud of two bleeding corpses falling down reaches her ears.

It seems she won't be following after all.

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern, right?" Ryan asks of the girl sitting in his favorite armchair. Not that he's opposed to it. She slew the thieves and made sure his wife lived long enough to get professional help.

It isn't like he could object if he wanted to, regardless. The girl is an alchemist. He saw what she did to the thieves, and he has no idea where she hid the bodies.

He has no intention of leaving his family fatherless.

"That's right," the white-haired homunculus nods with a pleasant smile on her face. Behind that smile, she continues to marvel at how comfortable the armchair is.

From what little she can remember of her life before waking up in the desert, there were armchairs in the Einzbern estate. Old Man Acht had one in his office. Now that she's sitting in one for the first time she can recall, she understands why.

Really, she'd have fallen asleep after cleaning if it weren't for the potential threat of more robbers.

"And you're Ryan, aren't you?" Illya asks.

"I am," he replies in a firm tone that the red-eyed girl is starting to suspect he uses for everything.

A slightly awkward silence falls as Illya expects him to follow up. Clearly, he does not. With a light cough to dispel the atmosphere, the homunculus continues.

"What did the doctor have to say? Are Jacob and..." Illya pauses to recall the woman's name, "Laura all right?"

"Yes, they'll be fine. You saved their lives. Thank you," Ryan nods his gratitude. He's still tense however. It could be because he knows his wife still isn't quite in the clear. It could also be because he has an alchemist who is quick to go straight to manslaughter in his house.

In his favorite armchair. The one his grandfather made for him. The very finest thing he owns, even moreso than the fancy tuxedo he wore for his wedding.

"You're welcome," the small child-like figure responds cheerily. It does little to ease his mind. What kind of kid can kill two people and not blink an eye? Is this an alchemist thing? Is she crazy?

He has no idea, and it scares him.

"Jacob will be fine after a few days of rest," he musters up the will to answer, "and is only staying at Dr. Baker's overnight to monitor his condition, just in case. Laura will need to be watched for a while to make sure everything settles properly. We don't want to chance an infection. With the amount of bed rest she's been ordered to, I bet she's going to get antsy."

"I see. That's good," Illya nods. It truly is. With this, she's all but secured a place to stay for the night. Asking is but mere formality.

Speaking of which...

"Um, I have a favor to ask," the homunculus fidgets with false nervousness. Ryan sits up a little straighter, making it clear that he's listening. It wouldn't be good to offend the little girl who can impale people with glowing swords of death and has no problems with killing.

Plus, she _did_ save his family. Even if her request is completely outrageous the least he could do is listen. He owes her that much at least.

"Could I stay the night here?" Illya's hopeful, bell-like voice hits his ears pleadingly. "Just one night, with a warm meal, bath, and bed? I don't have any money for the inn."

"... Sure," Ryan agrees after taking a moment to overcome his shock. Though he knew she was from out of town, she had been traveling without any money? How is that possible? She certainly didn't get robbed!

He wants to ask, but he also gets the distinct feeling that it would be dangerous to pry. In that moment he decides to stay out of alchemist business from then on. He can't afford to get caught up and die, leaving his wife and son behind.

Ryan has no idea what kind of bullets this policy would help him dodge in the future.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern lies in the soft bed, content with her full stomach. Though the food wasn't quite up to her standards, it was still far better than what she'd been eating until then. Combined with the comfortable bed and soft sheets provided for her, this can be counted as a win. That isn't even accounting for the bath.

Oh yes, the bath. The wondrous bath. The miraculous tub of water that-

Illya shakes her head. Getting caught up in how great it is to bathe can wait. She needs to prepare for the next step.

Her goal, she reminds herself, is to set up in that castle on the mountain. After extensive scouting, she has determined that all the materials she needs for the Heaven's Feel ritual can be found on the mountain and in the surrounding forest. Even if the castle ruins don't have a working basement for her to use, she can just transmute the large amount of stone lying around into what she needs.

For a proper workshop, however, she'll need supplies she can only get from the town. That means she needs to improve her relationship so they won't mind climbing a mountain to deliver to her. After all, there's no way a her small body can carry some of the heavier things.

Scheming how to earn the townsfolk's favor doesn't take long. Fixing things for free should do it. Getting actual money of her own can wait until after she's finished the ritual. Even then, she might be able to get by if she trades her services for goods.

"It seems I'll have to look into the local market more," Illya thinks aloud.

Yes, there are many things she needs to learn. How far does the underground haunt reach? What are the usages and limitations of this country's alchemy? What was that gigantic gate in the white space, and who was that white thing calling itself "the truth of her despair?"

That's just on the supernatural end of things, too. She needs to learn more about the way things work here. She needs to make money and make connections if she's ever to find those three people from her memory.

Just the thought of them brings a bittersweet squeezing feeling to her heart. Where are they? Who are they? What are they doing now?

"One of them is family, since they're also an Einzbern homunculus," Illya rolls over in the bed, lips pressed in thought. Jacob has parents. He's a normal human in that regard.

Einzbern homunculi, on the other hand, do not. They have sperm and egg donors. The sperm and egg are altered with alchemy before ever coming together, and the fetus further altered while growing in its tube. Every homunculi has been made with this process as its base, even hers-

"I wasn't made in a tube," Illya discovers- no, remembers with wide eyes. She slowly sits up, hands shaking. Whether it is from joy, anger, or fear is completely unknown to her. Her emotions are all jumbled up.

"Th-that's right. I'm... grng!" she tightly shuts her eyes and grits her teeth, pain shooting through her head as she tries to remember more. It hurts too much, like multiple sharp stabbing things attacking her brain. She tries to switch tracks, make herself think in a more roundabout manner toward the answer she seeks.

"... the latest model of Eiznbern homunculus. Normal homunculi are like man-made extensions of nature. An artificial human that is also part artificial nature spirit. Their connection to nature allows them to use Mana, the life force of the planet itself, far more easily and in larger quantities than a human.

It still has to be converted into Prana, usable magical energy, before it can be worked into a spell, but that's hardly an issue for a homunculus. Homunculi are 'born' when they are finished being developed, with all the knowledge and skills they need installed into them during their creation. Unlike myself who was- rng!"

Illya grits her teeth in pain. She can take it. It doesn't hurt as much as the time before. She's getting closer to a viable path!

"The price..." she takes a deep breath, "of this connection is that the homunculi will invariably have some sort of physical defect. For example, I age with exponential slowness. In addition, a homunculus' Od, their own life force, is less than that of a normal human's.

I am the latest model, since it was discovered I have amounts of Od above that of a normal human in addition to all the proper makings of an Einzbern homunculus. I have normal Od because I was born through-! through conventional methods."

Illya inhales sharply as things click. Her egg donor- no! Her _mother_ must have been a Justeaze model Einzern homunculus. Otherwise the egg would have been wrong and Illya wouldn't be one as well.

Her mind spins. She tries to force it to stop. After all, a womb is just another incubator, although an apparently superior one. Why does she feel the need to call the one who bore her "mother?"

Before she can calm herself down, in her mind's eye flashes the image of a- of that- of _the_ brilliantly smiling woman with white hair and red eyes.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 04**


	5. Ch004 - Heaven's Feel 04

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, by the way. I thought I should let you know I appreciate your feedback.**

 **gabe dot d dot clark dot 1997 [Chapter 003, 2/28/2017]: Yeah, something like that. There's also the other things forcibly crammed into her head. She has those as well, but since they're all related to the same stuff it doesn't make much difference.**

 **victimsofrage [Chapter 003, 2/28/2017]: You bring up a good point with the equivalent exchange bit. I'll bring it up in story later.**

 **Keyword being "if." It didn't. ... Or did it? Dun dun dun~!**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch004

Heaven's Feel 04

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern marches with determination up the mountain pass. Unsurprisingly, the path has seen better days. The forest has started to reclaim the land since mankind has abandoned it. It wouldn't surprise her if a wolf jumped out and attacked her, mistaking her for food just because her body is young and small.

Illya gets the feeling that she doesn't like wolves for some reason.

Her red eyes scan the treeline for threats as she walks. Wolf threat aside, it took only a few hours of surveillance for her to discover an odd energy in the air around the castle. Given that only alchemy seems to function, it's unlikely to be a bounded field. Still, the homunculus remains cautious since she doesn't know what it is or what is causing it.

While her walking speed is hampered by her short legs, the young lady finds she is making good time. She has been pushing herself a little by taking a brisk pace and no breaks, but she is quite eager. Her motivation has been high ever since her revelation the night before.

She finds it helps make up for the fact that she slept in past noon.

The girl can hardly be blamed, even if it is her own fault. After finally remembering something so personal about her own past, she just couldn't help spending many night hours trying to remember more. It was ultimately a fruitless effort, as Illya still can't recall her mother's name or any memories they might have shared. The throbbing feeling in her chest assures her that they loved each other though, and for now the girl contents herself with that.

The homunculus attempted to remember something, anything at all about the black haired man or the red haired boy as well. Unfortunately, she only came up with the feeling of them being familiar and important. She tries not to let it get her down. After all, it has been proven that the memories can still be retrieved.

Illya has a few ideas about how to unlock her still hidden memories, but she worries about their viability. That's only natural. None of them have had any testing. She has but one instance as an example, and that instance is really nothing more than circumstantial evidence. The only thing she can reasonably do is just try things and see what works.

Anticipating the future for once, the young woman plows ahead, any plans she had for the townsfolk forgotten. Though she wants to find her mother and remember her past, the most important thing right now is performing the ritual. She has less than a year to live. Whatever she learns is useless if she dies before she can act on it. Setting the ritual up will take about a week, and that can climb up to a month if the condition of the castle isn't quite right.

That isn't even counting the issue of the leyline. Which is to say that there isn't one anywhere nearby. She checked with her familiars, and has checked again every kilometer.

Illya doesn't intend to let that dissuade her, however. She needs to perform the ritual so she can get on with her search. If that means relying on alternative energy sources, then so be it.

A rustling in the trees is the only warning she gets before a hulking mass of muscle barrels across her path. A colossal fist suddenly fills her vision, and it's only her constant vigilance that allows her to duck out of the way in time. White hair fluttering in the wind created by that punch, she turns to get a better look at her attacker.

It skids to a stop among the dirt and grass, body half turned and reading to charge again. It is masculine, bald, about two and a half meters tall, and has a metallic skull shaped mask on his face. He's clad in a black breastplate and codpiece, as well as muscles built like Herakles.

And Illya knows what Herakles is built like.

Seeking to blunt the man's charge before it begins, Illya tosses some strips of wire into the air. The stolen and transmuted Toshner cutlery changes into weak Degen, forming glowing wireframe swords mid-flight. As soon their transformation finishes, they rocket forward with every intention of cutting down the sack of meat before them.

Like she'd hoped, the giant of a man dodges the rain of swords rather than charging. He breaks his stance, rolling out the way as the volley comes down around him. Apparently far more agile than his massive form would suggest, he gets into charging position again almost immediately.

Illya makes note that he is fast enough to have come out unscathed as she plucks two hairs from her head. While the wire strip Degen are easy to make a lot of, new commands can't be sent to them once she lets go of them. They simply don't resonate on the same spiritual frequency as her, and making them so they do is more effort that it's worth. Those wire strip Degen are very much intended to be fire and forget weapons.

Constructing a pair of glowing wireframe swords above each hand, the magus girl meets his eyes as he steps forward.

Then she activates her Mystic Eyes of Binding and the fight ends right there.

Impalement and decapitation tends to do that.

Illya walks over to inspect the body. From what she knows of human anatomy, humans usually don't grow much taller than two meters. At least, not natural ones.

A single touch is all it takes to confirm this is no natural being. His skin is cold, far colder than it should be if he were alive only moments ago. The little magus can't help wondering if the walking dead man did it to himself or was someone else's work.

Not able to cast Structural Analysis and not willing to spend the time to dissect the corpse, Illya buries the body with alchemy and moves on.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern frowns as the castle comes into view. She has seen it many times from the eyes of her familiars, but being here in person is different. The strange energy field surrounding this place gives off a hair-raising feeling on her skin. Combined with the quiet of all wildlife being warded off, it's a little creepy.

Not enough to stop the Einzbern homunculus, however. Her grandfather is creepier than this place at least five times over. Good thing she's never going to see him again.

"Wait," she thinks aloud, "If I complete the Heaven's Feel, then wouldn't there be a chance I live long enough to see him again?"

Frowning hard at the very thought of it, Illya decides that such a meeting might be good thing. After all, Old Man Acht might know where her mother is. Then again, he's a wrinkly old jerk. It's probably best for everyone if he's dead.

The young magus continues forward boldly. She's already scouted out the place as much as possible. Now is the time for action! Cautious action, just in case there are traps!

Just walking up to the door doesn't trigger anything, which Illya thinks is odd even though it matches up with the data gathered by her familiars. Then again, any traps at the entrance might have decayed to uselessness by now. The castle looks sufficiently ruined for it.

Attempts at opening the front door fail, though not because the white haired girl has a body too small for the required push. The door has been sealed with alchemy. The marks of Amestrian transmutations remain at the sides of the doorway in the form of small rectangular strips. Naturally, it isn't that hard for the miniature magus to fix.

The castle's first breath of fresh air in far too long kicks dust up into Illya's lungs. She doesn't much appreciate it. The musty smell of mold, mildew, and stagnant air is also unwelcome. She promises to herself that she'll have it cleaned as soon as she is immortal.

As she is not a fool, the Einzbern homunculus creates a Zelle to scout the interior now that she has access.

Within minutes she finds something disturbing. There are obvious signs of battle pretty much everywhere. Something, though she isn't sure what, gouged out lines of stone and left small cracks and craters from impact. Partial skeletons and random miscellaneous bones litter every hall and every room. Were it just that, the red-eyed girl might not be terribly concerned.

However, down one particular hall there is a small army of shambling, half-rotten corpses clawing at a wall of solid stone. At first she thinks that they are The Dead, the most basic of a Dead Apostle's familiars. The idea is discarded quickly since none of them seem to be using any Prana to maintain their unliving existence.

"Unless they have some way of disguising their Prana. Maybe it's the strange energy field? If it disrupts the ability to sense Prana then that would explain why they aren't attacking my Zelle," Illya says to herself. It seems she has formed a bad habit. She should get some friends to talk to.

"It doesn't really matter. I'll just crush them," the magus nods to herself in satisfaction.

Like that, their pitiful fates were sealed.

The Einzbern lady ponders over what do use. She could use the wire scraps Degen Schrotflinte (Name Pending). They're sharp because the wire is stretched thin, and their hardiness isn't bad since they're reinforced with magecraft. It isn't hard to get more either. All she has to do is filch a few scraps of iron with her birds.

Then again, she does like her full powered regular Degen. Unless the shamblers are stronger than they look, a single Degen should be enough to wipe them out if given some time. She has a Zelle inside already, and changing it from bird to sword isn't much trouble.

Since there's no point in putting herself in danger, the latter option is picked. A few minutes of hacking, slashing, and impaling the moving corpses leaves the hallway clear of undead threats. Now Illya is free to inspect the wall they were clawing at for hidden treasure. There's a major problem with that plan, however.

That hallway is sure to smell.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern stares at the contents of the hidden room. It's solid stone, dry, and airtight. There is a skeleton sitting in the room's only chair. She, judging from the hip bones, rests at a table covered with many old tomes along the far wall.

The books are probably what shambler were sent for. Either that or the dead lady. Not that they'll get either since they've been destroyed. If their master can detect that then there is little time to waste. It doesn't seem like he or she can, though, otherwise they'd be here to get what's in the room themselves. They'd be able to tell when the fighting stopped, after all. Give it a few months and the woman would be dead from dehydration or starvation, and then the shamblers' master could just waltz in and claim the goodies for themselves.

The mini magus, of course, is not in the room herself. She only walked up to the wall and transmuted an entrance. She is currently seeing through the eyes of her Zelle.

The stench of the hallway, as she thought, is quite bad.

Finding no traps, Illya has her bird land on the table and pick up the letter. Nothing happens. She has the letter brought to her hand to read. Nothing happens. She opens the letter. Nothing happens.

It's starting to get a little disappointing.

"Hello," Illya reads aloud. "If you are reading this, then you've found me! Congratulations! You are now the singular owner of my castle, my research, and my laboratory! That is, if you can redeem the document at the bottom of the stack in East City for the contents of my will.

I say 'if' because there are people who want it. They will kill you for it. They will kick puppies and eat orphans for it. They will hunt down and murder everyone you've ever known and loved just to get it from you.

Good luck getting to East City!

Sincerely,  
Dr. Tachibana  
February 4, 1890"

Illya frowns. According to the newspapers, it's currently August 5, 1901. That means this has been here for only been ten years. Any magus family worth their salt would constantly be hunting for another magus' research.

The homunculus girl makes a mental note that magus families are ruthless.

Additionally, Dr. Tachibana is signed in both English and Japanese. So far Illya hasn't seen anyone write in Japanese. There are people on the eastern side of the desert who write in something similar, but she didn't really analyze it. Maintaining a familiar from such a distance would be too Prana intensive, even for her.

It's all far too strange.

Illya flips through the papers in hopes of finding a map. Dr. Tachibana wrote about research and a laboratory. While the white haired girl doesn't expect it to listed here if she needs to redeem this "Certificate of Discovery," it's better to check. She'd feel awfully dumb if it were clearly marked on a map provided at the start.

"Let's see... These books are her research notes..." red eyes skim the paperwork, "Lord Corpse is a pervert and a jerk... some Goto family is after her life... Ah ha! A map!"

It's a good thing she checked. There _is_ a map, and the lab _is_ clearly marked on it. It's in a hidden room on the first floor, right next to the study in the northeast corner of the building.

Which just so happens to be one of the ruined parts of the castle. That quarter of the castle fell in on itself. The lab is collapsed and covered with stone.

Illya hopes that it's just a decoy lab, and the real lab is somewhere else. Maybe she'd learn more if she redeemed the Certificate? Then again, could the doctor have trusted the government with her documents if there are people out there who are able and willing to "hunt down and murder everyone you'd ever known and loved?"

Sighing, she has her familiar grab one of the books off the table. Hopefully Dr. Tachibana's work will be interesting. If not, then this was mostly a waste of time. Who needs a deed for an abandoned building, after all? The magus girl certainly has no intention to stick around after she finishes her ritual.

The homunculus girl skims the research material. She opens her mouth in shock. She closes it. She bolts into the secret room and transmutes herself a chair.

The next many, uncounted hours involve the homunculus girl reading through the research notes. They are so uncounted, in fact, that the sun sets and rises ten times. The homunculus girl doesn't even stop reading while cooking, eating, or taking care of her natural bodily functions.

Fortunately, she manages to tear herself away long enough to clear out the corpses.

When she finally looks up from the last book on the tenth day, her eyes are shadowed and bloodshot. Her hair is a tangled, oily mess. Her breath stinks.

Despite this, she smiles. It's the innocent, brilliant smile of a child. One with the shadow of a hardened serial killer who just found the perfect target looming over it.

Though she hasn't found her mother yet, Illya is going to have a little sister soon.

* * *

 **Next: Freezing 01**


	6. Ch005 - Freezing 01

**A/N: He's one of the only State Alchemists not named after a car. That must mean he's a main character, right? Someone write me that fic. I want to see his story.**

 **No takers? Oh, fine. Guess I better do it myself.**

 **In all seriousness, I try to get out two chapters a month. I was debating whether to post this, or to make a transition chapter first. In the end I decided I wanted something to actually happen, so here we go!**

 **Shadow of a Memory [Chapter 000, 3/18/2017]: How fortunate for you! This chapter should start giving you what you want. ... Maybe. Probably not? Well, it should be fine.**  
 **I like your interest and enthusiasm! Thank you! Sorry for making you wait all the time!**

 **gabe dot d dot clark dot 1997 [Chapter 004, 3/18/2017]: Good guess! Find out whether it was right... sometime in the following arc! I can promise that _I_ thought it was really clever!**

 **Guest [Chapter 004, 3/19/2017]: Tee hee~ ;P**

 **SeigZeon [Chapter 004, 3/30/2017]: Thanks Seig. I'm glad _someone_ likes my pacing. *cough*Guest*cough***

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch005

Freezing 01

* * *

Isaac McDougal nurses his beer. It's not a good beer. Fitting, as he isn't in a good bar and has not been having a good day.

"'Ey, c'mooon maaaan," one of his plastered friends slaps him on the shoulder, "Wha's wrong? You know you c'n aaaalways coun' on ol' Dean, riiight?"

Perhaps friend is a strong word. Drinking buddy may be more apt. After all, they're two off duty officers from entirely different districts than the one they're in. Isaac is from the North, Dean is from the West, and they're both drinking bad beer in the East.

Officers who happen to be State Alchemists.

"I don't want to talk about it, Spyder," Issac grunts. He takes a sip of his beer. It still sucks.

"C'mooon, wee been friends ferrr... fer ferever!" Dean prods drunkenly. "Dun'ya trus' ol' Dean?"

"I've known you for all of an hour. No."

It doesn't help that the other State Alchemist has been hammered the entire time. On one hand, the first fifteen minutes of that was in front of Lieutenant General Grumman. Spyder reeked of booze, but acted like he'd been sober for years. Grumman ignored it, so Isaac did too. It was only after the meeting was over and he had successfully convinced Isaac to go drinking that the facade fell away.

Now that the Freezing Alchemist has seen him out of uniform, nothing about the man has inspired confidence since. His cowlicked blond hair, which seemed well groomed and stylish in the office, now comes off as messy and out of place. His sharp, handsome young face has somehow transformed into that of a long-time alcoholic without changing at all.

McDougal would call it impressive if it didn't disgust him so much.

 _This_ is his first team member, the Silk Alchemist. The prospects for his mission are looking horrible already. The only good news he's heard so far is that they deploy at 0900 two days from now. Plenty of time for Dean to sober up.

"That is likely for the best," the beautiful woman sitting on his other side sighs as she lifts a glass of red wine to her lips. "Spyder is cursed."

Throwing back the glass reveals a tantalizing neckline above her otherwise conservative dress as her long, wavy, and blonde hair shifts out of the way. The woman's body is well developed, so despite her dress concealing most of it she still receives many lust-ridden stares from other bar patrons. The bare ankles between hem and heel and the almost hidden neckline seems to only increase them, in fact.

Isaac figures it's the power of imagination. Rather than being attracted by what they can see, they're attracted by what they can't see. As a scientist, he supposes he can understand. Chasing the unknown to unravel its mysteries is what science is all about.

Not that he, or anyone else, is going to try their hand. Reason number one being that the woman's sharp hazel eyes are full of intimidating steel. Reason number two being that she tossed the first contender out of the bar with a flick of her finger.

This woman is his current commanding officer, Brigadier General Karin B. Mercedes, the Heavy Wind Alchemist. She is also from the West. She doesn't look any older than than Isaac, but she's a war veteran from the same conflict that made the current Fuhrer a war hero. She has almost twenty years of active military service under her belt, and it shows in her eyes.

She's also a renowned hardass who is quick to resort to violence.

"Cursed? I don't believe you," McDougal huffs with annoyance.

The gruff man, already identified as Isaac McDougal, is tall for an Amestrian. He has a strong, square jaw and hard, narrow eyes. His black hair is styled in a regulation crew cut. He is the Freezing Alchemist, and is the most junior State Alchemist on the team. This is his first year as a State Alchemist.

He likes to think military life suits him, despite joining at 29 instead of when he was younger and stronger.

"Don't knock it, newbie," the cute brunette on the opposite side of Karin cajoles him cheerily, "No matter what job he tries to do, something goes wrong."

The brunette has short, curly locks that are unusual in Amestrian people. She wears simple shorts far too short to be modest, and a white tank top that doesn't do anything to hide the black bra she's wearing beneath. Unlike Karin, though, she doesn't really have anything to hide.

Most people don't notice it right away anyhow. They're probably distracted by the fact that she has four automail limbs. By the time they notice her immodest choice in attire, they're usually more interested in the story behind the steel.

This particular woman is his final team member, Kitt Firebird, the Doll Alchemist. She's from Rush Valley in the South. Anyone can tell she's in love with her work just by standing downwind from her. The smell of oil is thick and unmistakable.

There's rumor that she nearly destroyed Southern Headquarters on accident with nothing more than a ball joint and a pair of pliers.

Isaac just grunts and drops it. He doesn't believe that curses are real, but he also doesn't feel like arguing. Soldiers are often a superstitious group. Even the alchemists have a few superstitions they can't dismiss out of hand, though the only ones who don't do so eventually are all frontline fighters.

"Why the delay, anyway?" he asks his CO instead, "Normally we'd ship out the day of or the morning after."

"I suppose you have not heard of it," the long haired blonde hums. "The terrorists cell "Blue Squad" destroyed a large swath of the train tracks. Repairs will take until late tomorrow."

"Blue Squad?"

"C'mooon, paaal. Y'c'n- you c'n tell me. I'm good fer it. Kitty, tell'm m'good fer it."

Isaac attempts to inquire further, but is cut off by Dean's drunken rambling. Kitt rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh of exasperation. She gives Karin an apologetic smile, then hops up from her bar stool. She throws one of Spyder's arms over her shoulder and carries him from the bar, ignoring his smell and his ranting all the while.

Karin shakes her head. She puts down the wine glass that she emptied in the same manner most empty shot glasses. He is reminded that the liquid-free wine bottle next to it was full when she arrived. A fact he had been doing his best to ignore, along with the fact that they'd only been here for half an hour.

When she turns to Isaac, however, he notices something in her eyes. Something that is not the usual steel, but is also not the drink. It could be mistaken for such at a glance or at a distance. He's familiar enough with the drunken stupors of his younger brothers that he can tell there's something different.

Shaking away the thoughts of family and the bad mood sure to accompany them, Isaac listens to the war veteran who had been matching Dean drink for drink.

"I am done as well. You have had the least to drink. You will escort me home."

* * *

Isaac McDougal drives slowly. It's getting dark, the sun is in his eyes, and he is unfamiliar with the streets of East City.

It is fortunate that only the military or the financially well off drive automobiles, because familiarizing himself with driving on a road _not_ covered in ice and snow is taking a while. Any drivers behind him would be highly upset with his cautious speed.

There is, of course, another major contributor to his slow speed. The beautiful woman in the passenger seat is providing a wonderful distraction. Everything she says and does just seems to capture his attention.

Though, that's probably a given when she's your superior officer. Doubly so when she's so far up the chain of command. What soldier would rightly ignore a Brigadier General?

"The Blue Squad, also known as the Eastern Liberation Front, is a terrorist group that has been around for over two hundred years," Karin explains, the steel in her eyes sharp as she exposits. "As you know, Amestris has had a policy of military expansion since the day of its founding. Sometimes the people we conquered didn't appreciate it."

Isaac nods. It makes sense. If your country gets conquered, you form a resistance group to free it. There are a few things that don't quite add up, however.

"And these terrorists are still fighting for freedom after two centuries?" he asks skeptically. After all, two hundred years is five to ten generations. By the third, the area would have been integrated into their conqueror. The grandchildren of the first freedom fighters would have grown up in Amestris. They'd have no idea what it was like to live in the old country, and thus have no reason to fight for it.

"Of course not," the veteran retorts, "While originally they had ties to old nobility the likes of Elric and Valliere, those families eventually fell to obscurity when they ran out of money. You need money to fight a war, so they started looking for "interested parties." Things changed over time, and now the group is just a front for foreign powers seeking to destabilize us and full of foolish malcontent who have bought in to their dogma."

McDougal frowns. That's a lot more dangerous than he suspected. They'll be travelling through the terrorist group's operating zone, too, if what little he knows about their mission is accurate.

"Are they related to the Black Squad in the North?" he inquires in his usual gruff tone, "And why haven't I heard of them before?"

"They are. The Black Squad is the Northern Liberation Front, and is merely the northern version of the Blue Squad. They also used to be to connected to nobility such as Breda and von Luxberg, though those families were foolish enough to openly rebel and were executed for treason."

Mercedes pauses as Isaac is forced to swerve around some idiot running across the road. Judging by the runner's dirt covered clothes and shocked expression, he's probably from the country and unused to city traffic. Isaac remembers being the same way. Getting used to cars being common enough for there to _be_ traffic was a hazard he could have done without.

"Word of the Blue Squad has never reached the North because there was never any point," his CO continues, "Each squad only works in their designated areas. Additionally, they have not coordinated attacks since being taken over by foreign interests."

"Doesn't that ignore the possibility-"

"Operations information regarding this set of terrorist cells is classified, Major," Karin interrupts and sharply reminds him of his rank.

Isaac frowns with dissatisfaction but lets it slide. Not knowing the full picture is merely a fact of military life. He knows how it works by now.

"Understood," he acknowledges aloud, "May I ask what other terrorist cells are part of this group?"

"You may. There is a White Squad in the South that is on the verge of collapse. The Red Squad in the West no longer exists as Bradley and I took the time to eradicate them fifteen years ago."

Fifteen years ago, Isaac recalls, was a time of renewed hostility between Creta and Amestris. It all started when a small terrorist group was caught trying to bomb important grain stores for the coming winter. When it was revealed to have Cretan Commandos among the leadership, the border disputes that had been quiet for almost thirty years flared up again.

McDougal is a smart man that can read between the lines. It's entirely possible that there's something more than what's being said. In fact, there are enough things that aren't adding up that it is almost a certainty.

However, his commanding officer is good with her words and body language. It's anyone's guess as to whether she's drunk or not, and she looks like she's hiding it either way. If they're being spied on, which is the only reason this conversation couldn't happen elsewhere, then any reports would be confusing and inconclusive. Unless the spies are pressed for time, their superiors won't try anything.

He can't help wondering, however, about the reasons behind such secrecy.

Who is watching, and what about their conversation needs to be kept secret? Is he reading into this too much, or is everything just as it seems? Why can't the brigadier general be straightforward with him, and does it have anything to do with his past?

And why the hell can't things ever be simple?

* * *

Isaac McDougal doesn't bother to suppress a groan as he sits down in his study. It's only eight in the evening and he already has a headache. It's ridiculous. He hasn't even done any research tonight.

Between called in for a mission just as the day is ending, going to a bar for only to nurse a bad beer for half an hour, and then driving his commanding officer home in her private vehicle, he has way too much to think about.

What kind of mission requires four State Alchemists? Why is his commanding officer for said mission a _brigadier general_? Why is a general of _any_ rank taking to the field?

Before he knows it, his hand is up and spread across his forehead to massage his temples. He has so many questions, and the mission hasn't even started yet. Not that he'll know what the mission _is_ until they're on the train.

Pulling a hand down his tired face, Isaac's eyes are drawn to the photograph framed on his desk. It's an old one, taken almost fifteen years ago when he was first adopted. His two younger brothers were just as rebellious then as they are now, though without the affection they had for their father and each other.

The tired soldier reaches out and turns the frame around, not willing to look at his brother's faces right now. He offers his adoptive father a quick apology in his heart. His brothers are grown men that can make their own decisions.

He did what he could.

* * *

 **Next: Freezing 02**


	7. Ch006 - Freezing 02

**A/N: Really, though. It's a decent explanation for why it even exists in the first place. Not sure anyone actually cares where these things come from, but I like my worldbuilding.**

 **If someone can guess what I did for Illya's little sister, they... will have impressed me!**

 **Over a hundred followers and at least half as many favorites... Wow. Thanks everyone!**

 **Huh. Longer chapter than usual. Don't expect them to stay this length.**

 **Happy Easter, should you celebrate it.**

 **Guest [Chapter 005, 3/30/2017]: I'm glad you approve!**

 **Faritha [Chapter 006, 3/31/2017]: Glad you like it. As for McDougal... (Deleted Due to Spoiler Content) Writer's preference, I suppose.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch006

Freezing 02

* * *

Isaac McDougal steps out of the shower, refreshed from his morning exercise routine. He hated it when he started fifteen years ago, but he's come to appreciate it now. The scars he sees in the mirror every morning remind him to never skip a day if he can help it.

Each and every one of them could have been his life, after all.

Plus, it isn't like he's getting any younger. While he's not old by any means, he certainly can't call himself young anymore. Despite the graceful aging all with Xingese ancestry seem to have, he can feel the difference in his body from five years ago, and the five years before that.

It's fortunate that he has always been a cautious man. Too cautious, if his brothers have any say in it. His caution has saved all their lives more than once, though, and they have the decency to shut their mouths whenever he's forced to bring it up.

Had. They had the decency, at least until yesterday. It makes the eldest McDougal brother wonder what other decencies they no longer think are necessary.

Pushing aside the thought of his adopted siblings before they sour his mood any further, Isaac rubs his stubbled chin in front of the bathroom mirror. He lets out a long breath from his nose as he realizes again that he's getting older. He can see it in the skin around his eyes.

Not like his commanding officer. She must be at least forty, but she looks like she's in her late twenties! Make-up can account for maybe five years of that, but what about the rest? She doesn't have Xingese ancestry like he does. At least, not as far as anyone knows.

Isaac ponders if she's found some secret to slow aging in her alchemic research. He honestly can't see how it might work if there is. She specializes in transmuting gasses and altering air pressure.

Honestly, the war stories about her are what inspired him to become an alchemist in the first place. There are paintings of her gallant last stand to defend the vital farming hub of Albupow from Cretan attack. Standing in the middle of a swaying grain field, bullets being driven into the dirt and artillery detonating far in the sky due to her Wind Alchemy. Others depict her swinging her now famous sword and alchemic weapon at enemy Cretan lines, causing a chain of concussive blasts in the middle of the invaders' formations.

Yes, her history and abilities are well known. So is, much to her chagrin, the fact that she used to die her hair pink. Even fifteen years after that conflict and a decade after she stopped doing it herself, girls still dye their hair pink as a sign of strength and enduring hardship.

The Freezing Alchemist pauses his mental tangent as he realizes he doesn't know anything about his teammates. They were introduced by the Lieutenant General and they spoke a little at the bar, but neither event lasted very long. While Brigadier General Mercedes has extensively recorded exploits as a war hero, he's never heard of the Silk Alchemist or the Doll Alchemist.

Resolving himself to find out more, the man picks up his razor.

* * *

Isaac McDougal frowns as he sets down the book he was reading. While the East Headquarters obviously isn't going to store the research materials of alchemists that don't live there, they still have a list of alchemic achievements that affect them. In that list, Dean Spyder shows up a surprising amount.

It seems that the Silk Alchemist focuses mostly on transmuting cloth. In the four years since he began his military service, he has invented cloth-related materials and processing methods that have decreased soldier casualties by one percent. While one percent might seem small, there are over a million military men and women in service. One percent is still thousands of injuries or deaths avoided.

It seems his stated goal is to create a lightweight bullet-resistant cloth. Many are eager for him to succeed. Isaac finds that he is as well, though he worries about the efficiency of a man who shows up to a meeting drunk. Dean is clearly a genius, so it's hard to believe his superiors haven't tried to get him off the bottle. If they had succeeded, which they clearly haven't, then maybe his research already would be finished.

Isaac toys with the idea that Dean is just stringing the military along, purposely slowing his research down to use their money for drinking.

The Doll Alchemist, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have any notable achievements. At least, none that affect the East in a way the military cares about. Her name doesn't show up at all.

Sighing, McDougal stands up to put the book back. While he still doesn't know anything about his co-worker's combat abilities, at least now he knows that the Silk Alchemist isn't just good at acting sober. He'll have to talk to the man again and hope he could glean some insight for his own Alchemy.

Really, who knew that the new pyrotex guncotton would practically eliminate cartridge malfunctions? Granted, those malfunctions only happened about once every five hundred thousand shots before pyrotex. For other countries that might be nothing, but Amestris is surrounded by enemies on almost every side. The border skirmishes with Auguro to the south show no signs of stopping anytime soon, either. A lot of bullets are going to be fired before it's over.

Even if the guns themselves still jam, dropping the rate of ammunition misfires is godsend in the heat of battle. Most jams can be cleared in under ten seconds. Squib rounds can take your hand and leave you without a firearm.

This's only accounting for the use in guns, too. Guncotton is used in artillery, as well as explosives and a few other things. The alchemist can't remember off the top of his head, and makes a mental note to look up its other uses in case he has to improvise again.

Isaac places the book back where he got it and turns to leave the building, giving a small apology to Dean in his heart. While he appreciates Spyder's pyrotex ignition cloth, he is far more familiar with the cryotex anti-winter cloth. Being from the North, he knows that a good coat and a thick pair of socks can save your life.

When cryotex first came out three years ago, he was as skeptical as the rest of the snow-ridden North. The people who tried coats made from it noticed that it didn't retain heat any better than their normal ones, and it didn't do any better at blocking the heat-stealing winter winds. What was the point of an "anti-winter cloth" if it didn't keep you warm or keep the wind out?

Then the kids played with cryotex coats on and someone noticed that they weren't nearly as _wet_. Additionally, the coats dried off more quickly, and they were easier to wash. It was a big hit.

The cold of the North is built on three things. The temperature, the wind, and the water. The first is the most easily bearable, and can be dealt with by wearing more layers on top. The second is much worse, but can be countered by wearing more layers underneath. The third, however, is the only one that can't be ignored with proper preparation.

Water is everywhere in the frozen North, mostly in the form of snow. There's no escaping it. Once you finally get enough on you for it to start soaking into your clothes, you're done. Get inside and get warm. Combined with the cold and the wind that carries it to the bone, being wet is the second biggest killer in the North. First, if you count diseases caught because a person was wet and cold.

Understandably, everyone wanted entire outfits made from the stuff soon after the word got out. It has become the staple for Northern winter clothes, despite being a little more expensive. Even in Central, all good winter clothing is made from cryotex. Hell, some of their non-winter clothing is as well. Easy to wash clothing lasts longer since it doesn't have to be scrubbed as much. Combined with the fact that it dries faster means less time spent on laundry.

As he steps out of the building away from government property, Isaac promises himself to tolerate Dean for the miracle of modern alchemy that is the anti-winter cloth. He also promises to find someone else to do the Silk Alchemist's advertising in the future, if the young alcoholic hasn't already. The name is dumb, and it should have something more accurate. Maybe aquatex dry cloth if Dean wants to keep the theme going.

Isaac McDougal's stomach rumbles angrily. The soldier acknowledges the order from his superior and begins to look for food. He skipped lunch because he was nose deep in research, so this is really his own fault.

As his icebox is empty and he's leaving for a mission tomorrow, he decides it best to eat out tonight. From where he stands on the corner he can see a bakery and a family-owned restaurant. There's a higher class place a few streets away, but he has to budget his money in case a big expense comes up.

A pair of military policemen pass him as he debates his prospects, going about their duty patrolling and lighting the streetlamps before the sun sets. He notices that the man and woman are standing a little more closely together than most are comfortable with. They're the same rank, though, so Isaac doesn't care. Even if there's something happening between them, it's not illegal and not hurting anyone. Therefore, it's none of his business and there's no point in thinking about it any further.

He just makes sure to memorize their faces and label them as "emotionally compromised" in his mind. He doesn't want to be surprised if he ends up fighting alongside them someday. Surprises are usually unpleasant for soldiers.

As he finally decides to go grab something from the bakery, the door of a general store opens up a meter in front of him. Two young girls are flung out on the street, papers in their arms scattering as they hit the road. The tosser responsible for this is a tall balding man who obviously likes to build his body. The general store worker, as indicated by his apron, points and glares at the two menacingly.

"Your kind aren't welcome here! Stay out!" he shouts, then slams the door in their faces before they can respond.

Isaac can see the reason for the rough treatment immediately. The girls have white hair and red eyes. While white hair doesn't mean much, red eyes always mean someone has Ishvalan blood in them.

In other words, this is a case of discrimination.

Perhaps that's to be expected, however. The Ishvalan Civil War broke out last month. It wouldn't be odd for those who have lost family in Ishval to hate anyone with red eyes. For with a hatred already burning inside them, justified or not, it's just an excuse to act upon their prejudices.

Looking over the girls, he finds that their snow white hair is well kept. Their faces are identical, but one has skin that is porcelain white while the other is beautifully tanned bronze. They both have flawless skin despite differences in tone, so it is likely they came from a well off family. Common folk can't afford to take such good care of their skin.

Further evidence to that conclusion is their state of dress. It's surprisingly high class. He may not be the Silk Alchemist, but he's seen rich people clothes while on the job before. Even from here he can tell that the stitching and thread count is amazing.

The light skinned one has a wavy and white knee-length skirt above a pair of violet colored boots. A similarly violet long-sleeved shirt with gold trim fits snugly on her small body, embroidery decorating the shirt's cuffs and a short scarf decorating her neck. Her collar is ruffled from being treated roughly by the store employee, but is quickly adjusted by the dark skinned girl.

The dark skinned duplicate is wearing a maid's uniform that is in no way normal. The base of the uniform is a simple black dress that stops just short of her ankles, but it seems to be of about the same quality as her other's violet shirt. There are frills all along the white apron that is just as long and ties up nicely in the back. A red ribbon is strung underneath her white collar and tied in a cute bow with a bronze button as the centerpiece.

Perhaps the strangest bit is the headpiece. The fact that there is one isn't odd in and of itself. A maid needs to keep her hair out of the way while working, after all. What's strange is that it's made of lace! Furthermore, there are a pair of copper and iron spikes, one pointing out from each end! It's excessively extravagant for a servant, even if their employer is rich!

"What the heck!?" the snow-skinned girl shouts as she finally shakes off her shock. She looks like she's on the verge of a large tantrum. Isaac's years of experience, however, don't let him miss the barely hidden look in her eye. It's a dangerous one, full of threats that shouldn't appear on a child's face.

He makes sure to remember that face, just in case it become relevant in a murder mystery later.

Luckily, it seems her maid is more aware with their surroundings. They're drawing a lot of attention, and McDougal notices that it makes the maid nervous. She tugs on the purple-clad girl's sleeve.

"Onee-san," she quietly pleads, drawing the paler girl's attention to the stares they're getting.

The purple-clad girl looks her maid in the eye, the dangerous aura around her fading away. She takes a glance around for herself, then nods to her companion with pressed lips. Both stand up without a word and begin to pick up their papers.

One nearby Freezing Alchemist decides to help. Neither girl looks a day over eleven. They shouldn't be treated like that, regardless of prejudice. The sins of a father do not automatically become the sins of his son.

On the note of fathers, why are they out so late without their parents? It's horribly irresponsible of them. Someone should be watching them, especially since there are prejudiced people willing to hurt them! Since no one around seems willing to help, the alchemist decides he's going to have to be the adult here and do something.

Rationalizations aside, Isaac McDougal has a soft spot for children.

He kneels down to pick up one of the girls' papers and pauses once it is in his hand. It's a missing persons notice. The picture is that of a bosomy woman with long white hair, red eyes, and flawless white skin. She is likely the mother of the rich girl wearing purple. Below that, it says that if this person is spotted to please contact Atelier Einzbern in Youswell.

Picking up a few other papers reveals that there are actually two people that the girls are looking for. The second is a red haired teenage boy with eyes of liquid gold. Oddly enough, no names are listed for either.

Gathering the fliers doesn't take long. Isaac hands over his stack and receives a brilliant smile from the fair skinned child for his efforts. The maid smiles as well after seeing the other girl do so. It seems she was nervous in the presence of a stranger, and was looking to her companion to take the lead.

Though his face doesn't so much as twitch, the smiles warm his cold and bitter heart. It reminds him of the days his own brothers were rambunctious young kids. They were trouble all the time, but when they smiled so happily and innocently it was always worth it.

If only he knew how badly he was being duped.

"Thank you," the girls curtsy politely.

"You're welcome," Isaac responds, trying to not be terse and failing. A short, awkward silence falls between the three as the only adult that looks like an adult attempts to figure out what to say.

"Um...!" the girls both try to speak at once. They stop and look at each other. Then the dark skinned one takes a half-step backward to let her companion speak for them.

"My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern, and this is Chloe von Eiznbern. What's your name?"

"Isaac McDougal," he replies, hiding his bewilderment nicely. He could have sworn the maid called the purple wearing girl O'Nayson. If it's not her name, what is it then? She introduced herself as Illyasveil von Einzbern. _Von_ Einzbern, he notices, which is similar to von Luxberg. Does it mean something? It it a fake name? Were any of the names they used their real ones?

"Is that your mother?" he points at the fliers in the girls' hands. It's a shame that he somehow delivered the question in a rude manner. He worked so hard to wrestle his curiosity down to more polite levels.

Thankfully, it seems that Illyasviel doesn't take any offence.

"Yes! The red haired boy is our brother. He's adopted," she explains without prompting, pulling out a pair of fliers from the top of the stack for him. "If you find any sign of them, could you contact Atelier Einzbern in Youswell? I know the phone operator can connect the call."

Illyasviel nods confidently at the last bit. It's quite cute. Isaac can only guess that the child checked it herself.

"Do your mother and brother have names?" McDougal inquires, "It'll make the search easier."

It'll also make it easier for him to investigate them. He's suspicious, which may be reasonable. Four State Alchemists were gathered for a single mission, the details of which haven't been disclosed to him. His superior officer had given him information implied to be mission important while taking care not to be discovered by watchers. The content of that discussion involved terrorists' connections to old nobility of conquered countries.

Yes, given what he knows it may be reasonable to be suspicious.

This time the dark skinned girl, Chloe if he remembers right, steps forward. She speaks nervously, a flash of light crossing her eyes in the evening sun. It takes the uniformed man a moment to realize that he didn't hear a word she said.

"Sorry, I'm tired. What did you say?" he says in his usual gruff manner as he wipes his hand down his face.

"I..." Chloe bites her lip nervously before repeating herself, "I was asking if you knew any alchemists who might be willing to teach. I'd like to learn alchemy."

"Why?" Isaac asks slowly with suspicious eyes, partially on reflex. He doesn't have good experiences with children asking him for favors. Something bad always ends up happening later, usually to him! Even if it doesn't happen to him directly, it somehow always comes back to bite him in the ass!

It's too bad that he's weak against children. If he'd truly learned his lesson, he'd have immediately say no. Unfortunately, he's a scientist and the phenomena he suffers from aren't replicable by others. Therefore, there isn't any proof that bad experiences and children asking him favors are connected! He won't give in to superstition!

"I..." Chloe hesitates.

Throwing useless thoughts of witchcraft and magery aside, Isaac pays close attention to what the girl is about to say. He already zoned out once, and her motives may be important. If the girls are connected to his mission in any way, then the opportunity to get related information can't be passed up.

"I want to increase my Maid Power!" Chloe declares while looking him dead in the eye, blushing fiercely, jaw set, and stubborn resolution flashing in her vibrant red orbs.

"Your _what_?" the Freezing Alchemist replies lowly, unable to comprehend what he's hearing.

Illyasviel stands to the side, smiling proudly.

* * *

Isaac McDougal rubs his temples in a vain attempt to massage away a headache. The source of his pains sits across the table from him, eating steak and mashed potatoes. Two young girls, one pale and the other dark skinned, both dressed too well to not come from money.

On a gut instinct, he invited the girls to dinner so he could ask about this "Maid Power." It sounds like nonsense, but something about it piques his interest. It could be an as of yet identified branch of alchemy.

Never did he imagine that it would cause him head-splitting pain.

"So, run it by me again," he rolls his hand at the girls, "Just to make sure I understand."

"Sure," Chloe agrees excitedly, "Maid Power is an amazing, mysterious power that's been in the family for generations. To use it, one must be able to tap into the energies inherent in every living thing, have the spirit of a servant, and wear a maid uniform."

"Yes, but what does that mean?" Isaac presses. "Why do you need a spirit of servitude? Why a maid outfit? How do you tap into that energy, and what can you do with it?"

"The maid uniform helps amplify and shape the Maid Power," Chloe explains cheerily, "The shape of the lace and placement of the frills do different things. I'm still experimenting with it. I don't know how to explain tapping into the energy. I've been able to do that since the day I was born."

"And the rest?" Isaac probes.

"Is a family secret," Illyasviel denies him. The look she gives Isaac is cold and dangerous. Looking into those eyes confirms his thoughts from earlier. He's seen eyes like that before, though not nearly on someone so young.

Illyasviel has the look of a crazy murderer. She is someone who's killed before, and will do it again without a second thought. Moreover, she doesn't regret her actions at all. Not due to being a hardened criminal or trained soldier, but because she doesn't see anything wrong with it.

Did she suffer a trauma that made her that way, or was she was born cold-blooded?

Isaac's worked with and against people like this before. He may not like it, but it isn't like he has any room to judge. He's killed more than his fair share of people. Plus, he could also be considered mad. He's currently interrogating two prepubescent girls about "Maid Power," after all.

As long as the Einzberns don't go around killing innocent people, he'll turn a blind eye to Illyasviel's crazy.

Still, her reaction makes him think it was a good idea to inquire further. There may actually be something to this. He's not sure how to get more information right now, though. While he's capable of subtlety and subterfuge, he has a mission in the morning. He doesn't have a lot of time to spend poking the pair's brains.

He thinks on it for a few seconds, then he realizes that he might not have to.

"So," the Freezing Alchemist changes topics with a sigh, "you said you want to learn Alchemy?"

* * *

 **Next: Freezing 03**


	8. Ch007 - Freezing 03

**A/N:** **I'm glad people enjoyed reading about Maid Power.**

 **Sorry for delay. Finals happened. Should go back to schedule of two chapters a month soon. I'll try to get a third chapter out this month to make up for it, but no promises. This chapter is also slightly unsatisfactory, but if I start slacking I'll eventually slow and stop updating entirely.**

 **Another comparatively long chapter. Again, please don't get used to it.**

 **SeigZeon [Ch006, 4/17/2017]: Glad to hear it!**

 **Guest [Ch006, 4/17/2017]: Y'know what? You're not wrong. I'll see what I can do. It'll be tough given my available time, though, so I ask you be patient with me.**

 **Amatsumi [Ch006, 4/22/2017]: Who knows? ;)**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch007

Freezing 03

* * *

Isaac McDougal boards the train quickly, eager to finally get briefed on his mission. With any luck, Dean will be sober and he won't have to deal with any more kids. Really, what the hell is "Maid Power?"

Even after a long dinner discussion with the girls, he still isn't sure what it's supposed to be. While he managed to pry some more information from the eager Chloe, most of it was pretty vague due to Illyasviel's interference. He got just enough to make him interested in looking more into it, but not enough to give away the craft, should it actually exist.

Isaac is certain that Illyasviel did it on purpose. Crazy murder child or not, she cares for her sister. If her sister wants to learn alchemy, then Illyasviel will make it happen somehow.

He could be mistaken of course, but there's a reason he was given the name "Freezing."

Back on the topic of Maid Power, it certainly sounded like the typical nonsense spawned from a child's imagination. On the other hand, the way they talked about it was confident. Sure in a way people are sure the sky is blue. It was common sense to them. Not only that, but it was real enough and powerful enough that Illyasviel would kill in order to keep it secret.

And supposedly, learning Alchemy might increase this "Maid Power."

As stupid as it sounds, Isaac feels the need to look into this. The talk of energy flows reminds him of his mercenary days. Back then he was trying to find his own biological parents since he finally had the resources for it. He never did, but he did confirm he has Xingese ancestry.

It didn't take much research into Xing to learn they believed in "Chi," an energy that flows through everything. There is Chi in the land, in the sky, and in every human being. He discarded it as nonsense at the time, but in hindsight he hadn't been thinking very clearly. He was too focused on finding his and his adopted brothers' parents.

This "Chi" energy is used for Alkahestry, the Xingese alchemy. Maid Power uses the energy flowing in the body, and is used to "do awesome things, like healing." Both are apparently "ancient arts passed down the family line for generations," and used for medical purposes.

If multiple sources sound so similar, they may be related.

That thought overtaking his curious mind, he gave them the name and address of his old colleague, Tim Marcoh. A quick call when he got home had the doctor informed of the girls' eventual arrival, and got them caught up on each other's research.

Apparently Isaac called at a good time. Dr. Marcoh's prodigy alchemy apprentice recently graduated. They're equals and co-workers now, though they work different fields. The former apprentice, Dr. Royce, studies alchemy for direct use in healing, while Tim studies it to make medicine.

Speaking of which, Dr. Marcoh had made a breakthrough in the field of medicinal alchemy, creating new pharmaceuticals and processes for making them. He has recently been credited with turning acetylsalicylic acid into a useful medicine. They're marketing it as a generic painkiller called Aspirin.

Isaac is happy for him, but he he's pretty sure the kind man got a raw deal on patent royalties.

In any case, Marcoh and Royce will watch the kids. The natural curiosity of alchemists will do the rest. If there's something to be learned about Maid Power, they'll uncover it.

"Hey there, newbie!" Kitt Firebird waves as he enters the car, passing between two on-guard MPs as he does so. Isaac doesn't bother responding. He walks up the aisle and salutes Brigadier General Mercedes. Before he can say a word, she waves him down and orders him to sit.

The seating arrangement ends up with the women by the window and the men by the aisle, Dean Spyder beside the CO and Isaac next to Kitt. There is no one else in the car save for a pair of MPs guarding each door, so truthfully he could have placed himself in the seat behind Spyder. The General pointed at the spot before her, though, so here he sits.

"We'll be briefed on the ride over. It's safer that way," Dean explains before McDougal can ask. He still smells of alcohol, but he seems sober. Not that that means anything. He's already shown that he's good at faking it.

Isaac likes to think that that's what she said.

* * *

Isaac McDougal suppresses a groan with the decisiveness of an execution. Something he could sorely use right now, frankly. Sitting next to Kitt is torture. He'd rather sit next to Dean. At least he knows how to deal with drunks. The Doll Alchemist, on the other hand...

Taking the seat next to Kitt seemed fine at first. Everyone was quiet as Karin read a book. Isaac had been studying a recently published journal on macro-scale transmutations, Firebird had been watching the scenery roll by, and Dean had been sleeping.

Then the curly-haired girl turned to him started whispering puns.

She started with egg puns. That lasted for half an hour. Tree puns were next since they passed through a forest. Then puns on nuts.

Let it be known that Isaac lost something this day. Some sort of innocence previously left untouched. Some cherry that had, until now, gone unpopped.

Only now does he realize how much a lady can be the opposite of a lady. The discovery surprises him. He worked as a mercenary for almost ten years. Surely he'd already found out how far from proper people could get?

"Really, nothing so far? Not a grin, or even a groan?" Kitt pouts jokingly. "Damn man, that's cold."

It takes him a second, but he gets it. Oh, does he get it. The resulting groan is quite powerful, but he beats it down and prevents its escape.

The girl nudges his shoulder in a friendly manner with her own metal one. A wobbly grin decorates her face as the result of trying to hold in a smile and failing. Isaac prepares himself accordingly.

"Really though, thanks for being so chill. You're a cool guy. I feel like we've warmed up to each other already!"

Isaac finally gives in and groans. That one was good. A three-hit combo pun on his State Alchemist title, combined with a sequential temperature joke? No, that's clever. She wins.

With a wide smile, Kitt is about to rub his defeat in his face when the snap of a book closing is heard. The sound somehow carries authority, causing every alchemist's eyes to instantly turn to their commanding officer. McDougal idly notes that General Mercedes seems entirely at ease with having every eye in the room on her.

Isaac glances at the MPs with his peripheral vision to check the truth of the previous statement. They aren't looking at Karin. It relieves him that they can do their jobs as guards properly. Then again, they might just not have heard the book close. They are travelling in the company of the Heavy Wind Alchemist, after all.

"This," Karin lifts her book to face level, "is what we are dealing with this time."

"Oh no," Dean takes one look and groans.

"'Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus,'" Kitt reads the title aloud. "I haven't read it. What's it about?"

Isaac hasn't read it either, but doesn't comment. There's no need to let the others know. It looks like he'll be given a relevant summary. He can read it later on his own time if it sounds interesting.

"It's about the crazy Doctor Frankenstein, and the monster he creates out of human corpses," Dean replies with displeasure.

"What, like a zombie?"

"No, Firebird," the Brigadier General shakes her head as she sets the book on her lap. "Like an artificial human."

"A homunculus?" Issac murmurs, his back straightening in surprise and disbelief. "But that would mean someone performed a successful human transmutation!"

"So someone actually figured out how to resurrect the dead?" Kitt asks with awe.

"Again, no. Human transmutation is more than just resurrecting the dead," Mercedes replies calmly, "As McDougal said, the creation of artificial humans is also human transmutation."

"But if these... homunculi are alive, then that still means someone managed to bring dead tissue back to life!" Kitt presses eagerly.

There is a sudden blur of motion. The Firebird is roughly blown backwards into her seat. The Brigadier General slowly retracts her arm and body from her forward leaning position.

No one dares move.

Unlike the time in the bar, Isaac is in a good position to see what happened. Karin had shot forward and flicked Kitt in the chest. As she did so, the familiar light of a transmutation leaked out from the Brigadier General's sleeve.

The Freezing Alchemist isn't sure what kind of alchemy was used, but it's amazing that no one has been permanently injured. The amount of force required to send a grown man flying five meters is significant. Concentrating it all on the tip of a finger? That's dangerous. The dark haired man can only marvel at the complexity and control allowed by Karin Mercedes' alchemy.

"Do not be too eager," the Brigadier General chastises coolly, as if she hadn't just struck her subordinate in a fit of violence, "I do not know the full details of how they are made, but the taboo is taboo for good reason."

Her sharp gaze sweeps over the two men in the group. They both sit a little straighter, not eager to be in Kitt's position anytime soon. The Doll Alchemist is coughing, moaning, and rubbing her chest in pain. She can't sit up straight, and is sprawled against the window.

"Besides, what little I _do_ know is that there is no coming back to life," Karin calmly folds her hands on her lap. "A Frankenstein Homunculus may move and have some memories belonging to their donor brain, but they are not the person who died and they are most certainly not alive. They are mere moving corpses, powered and animated by a Galvanic Current running through their bodies and electrodes. Due to this, they can ignore several limitations of living beings, and should not be underestimated."

There is a long pause as the Brigadier General waits for Kitt to recompose herself. It takes a minute for the younger woman to pull herself into sitting position. Neither Dean nor Issac dare slouch in that time, wary of Mercedes' temper. There had been no signs of attack before Kitt was "disciplined," and no signs afterward that Karin was ever upset. With no warning signs, who knows when either of them will be next?

He had heard rumors that the Heavy Wind Alchemist is violent and has a snap temper, but only now that he sees it does it frighten him. A glance at the automail girl confirms that her damage isn't life threatening, and is no more severe than a good punch to the chest. Still, something about the way Karin did it raises hairs on the back of his neck.

She terrifies him.

"Our overall mission is to seek out and destroy any research related to human transmutation, as well as any products thereof. Any Frankenstein Homunculi are to be tracked back to their lair to be destroyed all at once. If not possible, they are to be destroyed as soon as possible. If their creator is found, they are to be brought in dead or alive. Any questions?"

Isaac waits for someone else to ask a question first. No one does, likely due to the same fear he's feeling. He has questions, though, and so he forces the first one out before the silence can get awkward.

"Ma'am? How would we recognize a Frankenstein Homunculus?"

"They have a pair of electrodes, one on each side of the body. They are place symmetrically, usually on the head or neck," she answers promptly. "They may be shaped like bolts, or hidden as accessories. Either way, they must conduct electricity well and I am quite certain you know what that means."

McDougal can only nod. Electrodes must be made from electricity conducting materials, so that means certain metals like copper or iron. Now that he thinks about it, that combination of metals sounds familiar.

Before he can think any further on it, Dean's voice draws his attention.

"You said our 'overall mission' is to hunt down people who break the taboo," Dean observes, "What's our specific mission? Do we have a target?"

"Yes," Karin nods, "and we shall speak of it in a minute. Any other questions?"

"Yeah," Spyder smoothly moves on to his next inquiry, "You also said 'Frankenstein Homunculi.' Does that mean there's more than one kind of homunculus?"

Isaac stops himself from frowning. That's a keen observation coming from the alcoholic. Is the genius shining through now that he isn't drunk out of his mind?

"Indeed. Though we know almost nothing of how they are created, we classify them either by their original creator or the culture they stemmed from."

"Are you suggesting that other countries know how to make homunculi?" Isaac asks while masking his worry, thoughts of Dean set aside. If Drachma could gather up their dead and reanimate them to fight again, the results could be disastrous for Amestris. They wouldn't need to fear traversing the Briggs mountains if their army is made of corpses, especially if they're using disposable troops in the first place.

Being able to make an army of disposable soldiers would also be within the moral tolerance of Drachma's military.

"No, but it is entirely possible that such knowledge could fall into their hands. Hence the need for the destruction of research," Karin shakes her head lightly. "What I meant was that some homunculi are products of the alchemic traditions in countries we have conquered. Others are products of civilizations that fell long before Amestris existed. Those alchemic traditions can be studied to create something new and useful, such as automail. However, research into Human Transmutation has always lead to ruin. We have ample amounts of historical evidence to prove it."

Karin pauses to let that sink in. McDougal certainly commits it to memory. It's entirely possible that the Einzbern's Maid Power is one such lost branch of alchemic research.

Kitt, no longer nursing the bruise certainly forming on her chest, pipes up during the quiet. Isaac mentally applauds her bravery. After being disciplined like that, he wouldn't have been able to get over his shame to ask questions when he was her age.

"So... why us?" the youngest alchemist of the group asks with only an ounce of hesitation. "Why were we chosen for the mission?"

"You all were chosen first and foremost because of your combat records," Karin reveals. "If something happens, we know you can take care of yourselves. If nothing else, we know you can stall until backup arrives."

Isaac isn't sure how to take that information. He can understand himself and the infamous Heavy Wind Alchemist, but what about the other two? Though Dean is definitely of drinking age, records state he's only twenty-three. Kitt is younger than Dean by at least two years. To say that each of them have combat ability is anywhere comparable to his own is insulting.

"Second, your ability to gather information is of vital importance. All of you have methods outside the normal means for military intelligence. We will be scouring the less desirable elements of the country for anything connected to the highest taboo of alchemy, so I hope you can understand the trust we are placing in your abilities."

The Doll Alchemist sits up a little straighter at that. It makes McDougal realize that the girl is eager to please. At least, eager to please their CO. She's probably one of the many women across the nation who grew up idolizing the war hero Brigadier General.

"Finally, you are all State Alchemists. As our adversaries will be well versed in alchemy or products of it, we must send experts who can properly analyze what we are dealing with while out in the field. Having to wait for an analysis could allow targets to escape, and that is not acceptable."

General Mercedes stops talking, her gaze slowly drifting between her subordinates. No one speaks. There's no need. They no questions they want answered at the moment. Right now, they just want to know their mission.

The blonde woman doesn't take long to give them what they want.

"Moving on," she opens her book and pulls out a newspaper clipping for them to see, "our current, specific target is a speculated Frankenstein Homunculus in New Optain."

Isaac widens his eyes with incredulity. Dean stills in bewilderment. Kitt gasps in fright. All are shocked as Karin reads the title of a front-page article from November of '88.

"Murderer of the Misty Night: Jack the Ripper!"

* * *

Isaac McDougal is shocked still when he steps off the train. How could he not? The New Optain air is so thick with smog he can't help but choke.

Then there's the matter of Jack the Ripper.

The serial killer known as Jack the Ripper has never been identified. How did the State Military come to the conclusion that he's a homunculus, let alone a Frankenstein type, when no one has ever seen his face and lived? General Mercedes claimed the matter classified to protect their informants, but Isaac has a bad feeling about it.

The walk to the hotel is quiet save for the coughing induced by the heavy pollution. Though alchemist knows this city is the largest producer of steel in the country, he never imagined that the numerous factories would be such a problem. He can't even see the sky past the thick clouds of smoke rising from the rooftops.

It isn't just the steel mills, either. Many products sold throughout Amestris are made in factories here. The businesses that own those factories make full use of their convenient location.

All the coal from the lucrative Youswell mines passes through New Optain. Much of it gets sold on the spot, or is bought via contract deals. Even then, there's still enough coal most of the East area. No one can claim the big business owners are being greedy when the average Joe can buy coal just as easily as a big Richie.

Additionally, the city is only two trainstops away from East City, and four away from Central. When it comes to distribution of goods, the location is indeed convenient. The cost for transporting goods to these two hubs of commerce is less because the distance is smaller.

The end result is plain as day, especially from the third story hotel window. Smoke and smog fill New Optain. Sulfur chokes the lungs and strings the eyes. Finding Jack the Ripper was going to be hard in the first place, but in these conditions it might well be impossible.

Civilians also have it rough. They actually have to live here. Isaac wouldn't be surprised if disease and crime ran rampant here.

Which, again, brings it all back to Jack the Ripper.

Why now? It's been over ten years since the murderer first appeared in the Whitechapel district of New Optain. No one is certain exactly how many murders he has committed, either. There are five murders that are his definitive handiwork, two murders before those that might have been his, and four murders after that are often linked to him even though evidence suggests otherwise.

Furthermore, no one can agree if he's a man, woman, or even a single person. For all anyone knows, Jack the Ripper is actually a group. His identity, his acts, and even his letters are all uncertain.

Now Military Intelligence is suddenly saying he's a suspected product of human transmutation? Isn't that too suspicious? Where did this intel come from? Even if the informants aren't named, the methods used to uncover this information should be shared with the people on the investigation team, right?

Not only that, but weren't they able to find out some aspect of Jack the Ripper's identity with their own methods? Why do they want to use a group of soldiers that gather information in ways they can't replicate? Did they reach the limit of their own methods, or is the team being set up for failure?

Frankly, the whole thing is starting to reek of conspiracy.

While corruption isn't unexpected in any large organization, there aren't many ranks higher than Brigadier General. If they are being set up for something, failure or otherwise, only the top brass could possibly put it into practice. Is it for their own ends, or is it related to underworld connections that some of them are no doubt hiding?

Knowing he has no way of knowing without careful investigation, the Freezing Alchemist steps resolutely into the poisonous evening fog.

* * *

 **OMAKE: FREEZING ALTER 02**

 **In a different timeline, where different decisions were made...**

Isaac McDougal can't figure out why the girls are giggling. He hasn't done anything strange. In fact, he hasn't done _anything_ except try to talk to them.

"O'Nayson, please explain the joke. I don't get it," he asks of the pale skinned Ishvalan girl.

This only causes her and her maid to burst into another fit of giggles.

McDougal sighs and decides to leave them alone. He has research to take care of and a mission to prepare for. Plus, he still hasn't eaten dinner yet.

* * *

 **Next: Memory 02**


	9. Ch008 - Memory 02

**A/N: Double Feature! Smashed out a second chapter in less than 24 hours! Woo!**

 **Don't expect it to keep, however! This speed is one born of repressed creative power, saved up during long hours of studying and released by the immense power of unbridled freedom! It is very likely that this will never happen again!**

 **That said, I've already started on the next chapter even though I should be sleeping.**

 **Next chapter is an Illya chapter. Look forward to it!**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch008

Memory 02

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is a relatively carefree girl. Why wouldn't she be? She has the political and financial backing of the whole Einzbern family. Combined with her magecraft, there's very little in in the world that can hope to oppose her.

She doesn't mind the purpose she was created for. It allows her to play- er, research alchemy all day. If she has need of something for her experiments, her family will spare no expense to get it for her.

There's something that's been troubling her recently, however.

As she continues to delve into the mysteries of Einzbern alchemy, the more she wonders about the alchemic achievements of others. She wants to know what the other mages have accomplished, what they have created, how, and why. What other products of alchemy are out there, known but kept secret from her? Could they be useful for retrieving the Heaven's Feel?

More importantly, are they any fun?

She's reached a point in her research where she can appreciate the wonders of the lauded Philosopher's Stone. Whether it's Azoth or Alkahest, nothing measures up to the recorded feats of Paracelsus von Hohenheim's stones. As their only known creator and the founder of modern alchemy, even the thousand year old Einzbern family took notice when he started making a scene back in the day.

Though the chance of meeting someone as gifted as Paracelsus is so small as to be negligible, knowing there might be other such geniuses out there is still exciting.

If she, the Master of Northern Alchemy, were to meet up with such a person, what would be the result? Would they be friends? Rivals? Enemies? Maybe some complicated mix of all three?

She has no idea, but she's eager to find out.

So eager, in fact, that she's holding interviews. Anyone who can bring her new achievements in alchemy will be rewarded with money. If the achievement is interesting enough, they will also be gifted an Einzbern battle homunculus. The grade of homunculus will vary depending on the achievement, but everyone who comes gets what they deserve.

The man standing before her is a little shabby and scraggly, speckles of unshaven facial hair halfway done forming a 5 o'clock shadow. His form of dress is formal, yet doesn't restrict his movement. The long coat he wears is befitting of a mercenary with many enemies and knows he could need a weapon at any moment.

His face is blank and his eyes are vacant, yet there's something about him that makes you feel like there's _more_. Him just walking into the room drew all eyes within three steps. None of the previous participants had that kind of effect.

"I hear your a mercenary," she says in her non-native English, "who fought in the American War of Independence."

The man's gaze slowly narrows. He's puzzled by something. Perhaps it's her choice of language. It's not very becoming English of a lady with her social position.

"How did you do that?" he asks, also ignoring proper decorum, "You used the wrong 'you're.' Even though I shouldn't be able to tell because they sound the same, I was somehow able to hear the difference. Just what did you _do_?"

She just smiles proudly.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is young, but that's okay. She's a particularly well-made homunculus. Her only flaw is that her bones are weak and break easily. That's fixed easily enough with her Bernard.

Really, everyone should have a Bernard, but they're hard to raise without them delving into Dead Apostle research.

Even if her Bernard is busy for some reason, like now, she can usually fix herself up with Wishcraft. She has a needlessly high amount of Prana, and her Magic Circuits are more efficient than humanly possible. Her one flaw is painful, but easily overcome.

Unless something like the French Revolution happens while you're in France.

"Tell me how you do it," the scruffy black haired man says from his place on her lap. While normally she would object to giving the man a lap pillow, he's earned it after saving her life. Well, she might normally object anyway, but her legs and arms are broken.

You'd think with the need to keep magic hidden there would be fewer magi throwing around explosions.

"Stop talking and save your strength. Bernard will be back soon, and then you'll be fine," she orders him with teary eyes. She'd use Wishcraft to heal him herself, but she had already used most of her Prana killing their attackers. They were skilled, but not normally enough to cause her trouble. It's just that they were smart and used a lot of underhanded tricks.

So now her bodyguard, fellow alchemist, and best friend is dying on her lap.

"I won the bet," he reminds her with eyes far infinitely more alive than when they first met.

She decides she hates irony.

"It's a trick I learned from an Atlas researcher. You do it by transmuting the phenomena known as 'Language' from written to spoken," she says with a quivering voice. He chuckles. He coughs up blood.

"Idiot! I told you to stop talking!"

"Didn't say a word," he smiles with bloody lips, "Besides, you make it sound so easy."

"What? The alchemy? It is. It's so simple that when Bernard heals you up and we get home and I show you the formula, you'll smack yourself with with easy it is. Now stop talking and save your strength. Bernard is on his way. We'll get you healed up-"

"Not that," he finally gets a word in, still grinning. "Living. You make it sound so easy."

"Of course," a tear falls from her face to his, "You promised, right? You won't die until you save the world?"

The smiling man-

"I think..."

-takes a raspy breath-

"I already did."

-and dies.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is a beautiful young lady. She knows it well. From her flawless hair to her well-shaped feet, every bit of her was designed to be peerless.

She finds it to be a surprisingly useful weapon in the Clock Tower. Never did she imagine that a building full of mostly male holed-up academia fanatics would be so susceptible to the subtle wiles of a beautiful, powerful, rich woman of high society. Really, shouldn't they be focusing on their research?

So she finds it interesting that the man before her seems unaffected by her looks. Either he has no interest, or he's quite the expert at hiding it. Given the dumbfounded look on his face, she's almost certain it's the former.

" _Saving the world_?" the man shakes his head slowly as if unable to comprehend the words. "Einzbern, we're close enough friends that you know why I know _it is impossible._ "

Additionally, they've been friends for a while.

"Saving the world would require the creation of utopia, and that _cannot be achieved with human hands_ ," he stresses, his finger firmly hitting the table between them for emphasis.

"I'm going to have to agree with Makiri on this one," a man sitting beside the first raises an open hand, "Heroes greater than we have tried. All have failed."

"That's right," she nods knowingly. "All heroes of the past have failed. No human hands can create utopia."

She pauses for dramatic effect.

"Please don't pause for dramatic effect and just tell us," the Makiri sighs, rolling his hand for her to continue.

"So, we're going to borrow the hands of God!" she informs them gleefully, as if her ancient friend hadn't just ruined the mood for her dramatic reveal, "With the system I've designed and the research you two have made on the Philosopher's Stone, we can-"

"We never researched the Philosopher's Stone, though," the second man raises his hand again to interrupt.

"-save the... What?" she blinks. She closes her eyes, shakes her head, gives him a long look before speaking again. The look is positively murderous.

" _Why the hell not?!_ " she thunders, "Tohsaka! You use Jewel Magecraft! Makiri! You've seen von Hohenheim's stone in action! Both of you know this! Researching the Philosopher's Stone is the obvious conclusion!"

"Because Paracelsus made his stone from True Ether," Makiri raises a cobalt-blue brow. "How do you expect any research to bear fruit when the base material doesn't even exist anymore?"

"One made from Ether should still be useful!" she insists.

"Let's be honest," Tohsaka sighs, "I'm not a very good magus. Even if I knew how, I doubt I could make one."

"You'd never figure it out anyway," Makiri consoles(?) his friend, "It's some sort of photonic crystal that doubles as an impossibly powerful calculation machine. It's how his Azoth Sword allowed him to cast almost any spell instantly."

"Like a magic crest?" she interrupts, her curiosity killing her rage cat.

"No," Makiri denies instantly, "They're in completely different dimensions. If the Philosopher's Stone has three dimensions, then a magic crest has only one."

"Damn!" she bites her lip in frustration. "How am I supposed to power the ritual now? I can't use a leyline! Even going to America wouldn't get it out the reach of the Association or the Church! Everything will be ruined before it has a chance to start!"

"If west doesn't work, why not go east?" Tohsaka suggests, "You do remember I'm from Nihon, right?"

"Hm... I don't know," she thinks it over seriously, "I designed the system with the west in mind..."

"Why don't you tell us the details of this ritual of yours?" Makiri follows up, "Saving the world by 'borrowing the hands of God' sounds like something that could call down the Counter Force."

"It won't!" she pouts, even as her friends laugh at her expense like good friends do.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 05 - Part A**


	10. Ch009a - Heaven's Feel 05

**A/N: If it makes you feel better, I freely admit I'm full of crap.**

 **Hrm. That last chapter came out fast and it didn't feel horrible. I may have to stop thinking so hard and just write. Maybe do shorter chapters. Ending whenever it feels right works better I guess.**

 **I worked a lot on this one. Writing, revising, re-writing, re-revising, and so on. The chapter can't even be called complete, either. I've had to split it, since I'm adamant (stubborn) about each chapter having three sections.**

 **victimsofrage [Ch008, 5/11/2017]: That is correct. It is not an error, though.**

 **Yeah [Ch008, 5/12/2017]: But every chapter's been written in chronological order, though? =3**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch009a

Heaven's Feel 05

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern wakes with a start. The clacking of train tracks and uncomfortable seat reminds her of where she is. A passing glance at the scenery outside the window reminds her of where she is going.

So clearly her memory isn't malfunctioning badly enough to attempt fixing it with Wishcraft again.

Illya frowns at the thought of her attempt to retrieve her memories. It hadn't gone well. Though the spell worked, she passed out for the entire night and didn't wake up remembering anything new. Either she suppressed them herself, or there was interference from a being more powerful than a True Magician.

That aside, what was those memories she dreamed? They certainly weren't her own. In the second one she was looking down the whole time. She got a good look at her body, and that was certainly too too... large to be her!

"Good morning Onee-san," a familiar voice calls out to her. Illya turns her gaze to the one sitting across from her. Once again, she marvels at the power of alchemy.

"Good morning Chloe," she replies to her sweetly smiling maid, "How long until we arrive in Central?"

"No more than twenty minutes," her dark skinned doppelganger answers.

Truthfully, Illya doesn't like that Chloe's skin is dark. Their pure white skin was one of the few thing something their mama gave them. It can't even be considered the fair price of modifying a body with Wishcraft so it can defend itself. At least her hair is still white. If it had turned some ridiculous color like pink, Illya isn't sure what she'd have done.

Well, it's all forgiven because Chloe is cute.

"Um, Onee-san?" Chloe draws Illya from her thoughts. The elder sister notes that her junior is being shy. Is there something to be embarrassed about?

"Hm? What is it?" the elder homunculus prompts. Chloe bites her lip nervously. Illya almost reprimands her for it, but the younger girl speaks first.

"Was it okay for me to hypnotize McDougal-san?"

"Eh? Is it something to be bothered about?"

"I know you gave me the power to do it by making me your maid," she says with a troubled expression, "and I'm grateful. But... he was just asking about Okaa-san and Onii-san's names. Couldn't we have told him that we don't know?"

"No," Illya denies instantly, "There's no way he would understand. We would end up have to explain why we don't know, and why we don't know why we don't know. And if we did all that, then we'd have to explain Magecraft. Even though alchemy is known in this country, Magecraft isn't. The local magi are keeping it a secret, so we should as well."

"But the only Magecraft that works _is_ alchemy," Chloe argues, "Couldn't we tell him it was alchemy?"

"You're okay with lying but not with hypnotizing?" Illya deadpans.

"It- it just feels wrong," the maid mutters. "I don't like using the Flashpoint Eyes for this."

Illya sighs. The girl sized woman moves to sit next to her sister, then pulls her into a gentle hug. She pats Chloe on the head and whispers softly.

"There there, it's okay. He's not hurt by it and we didn't take anything away from him. No harm was done, so isn't it fine?"

"Mm... I guess so, Onee-san," Chloe agrees obediently. Comforted, she finally relaxes. Illya is quite glad about that. While she wouldn't be hurt if the tanned girl were to throw a tantrum, the train might get broken.

That would be hard to explain. Even if no one noticed the sound due to her spell that transmuted the air, there's no way they wouldn't notice the gaping hole where the girls were sitting. The sound blocking air cushion she made would also get blown away quickly by the wind rushing through the hole.

Regardless, it isn't like Illya would tell her sister if that Isaac guy suffered from adverse side effects of the Flashpoint hypnosis. There's very little need to care about disposable assets, after all. You don't get much more disposable than a spy that already finished his mission... and never knew he was a spy in the first place.

Really, familiars made out of a single strand of hair are the best. They can share senses with their master, move according to their master's will, and, best of all, change their color and shape. If you can slip one onto a non-magical person's head then you've already won.

Well, it isn't like she did it to spy on him in the first place. Illya's more concerned with finding the mage community in Amestris. As a True Magician with infinite Prana, she's going to stand out like a beacon to anyone who can sense it. Since no one has approached her to find out the reason for so much Prana to be gathered in one spot, the local magi might have some strange circumstances.

That being the case, a familiar with about as much Prana as a normal magus might draw them out. While distributing fliers from town to town is good, a society of magi would also be useful. The Einzberns are famous in the Moonlit World for their products. It should be impossible for her family to be unknown in any respectable magus community.

"Still, Jack the Ripper? A Frankenstein Homunculus?" Illya thinks to herself. Her ruby red gaze turns to her adorable little sister, who is still slightly put off by the usage of her Flashpoint Eyes. Mysterious eyes with powers similar to Mystic Eyes of Whisper, despite not being magical in the slightest.

Truthfully, Illya worries that she may have made a mistake when creating Chloe from her leftover body. Sure, that life and body are among the only things she has left of her parents. It's obvious that she wouldn't want to lose them.

With the soul leaving the body, materializing and no longer anchoring itself to the mortal flesh due to the Heaven's Feel, Illya's body was going to die.

Fortunately, Illya obtained infinite Prana with the materialization of her soul. Combined with the Einzbern Sorcery Trait of Wishcraft, she could do almost anything just by visualizing the result and paying the appropriate Prana cost. Her only limitation is her output, but even that isn't much of one given her designed function.

Up to there, everything is fine.

However, what Illya visualized for her new familiar and little sister was based on Dr. Tachibana's research notes. Those notes are all about Frankenstein Homunculi. While that would normally be great since modern Frankensteins don't have or need souls, there are three problems with this solution.

The first problem is that the notes are incomplete. There are parts missing, stolen by some necrophiliac who calls himself "Lord Corpse." Assuming Dr. Tachibana's will can be believed, anyway.

The solution for that is simple. Find Lord Corpse, kill him, retrieve his part of the research. It can even be done while on the road!

Okay, so it's more complicated than that. There's no point in thinking too hard about it when there's no leads to follow, though. Plus, learning this country's alchemy is first on the to-do list.

The second problem stems from the first. The section notes that were stolen were part of the research on "Special Type" Frankenstein Homunculi. Every Special Type has alterations for the sole purpose of enhancing a specific bodily system. For example, the 2nd Special Type has an enhanced respiratory system.

Illya added all the enhancements she could. Since they were intended to go in a dead body, however, they all ended up weaker than usual. That isn't a major issue, especially when the Einzbern homunculus creation techniques can cover for some of that.

No, the problem is that they cost too much Galvanic Energy. Each of the six specialized systems was designed to be the main feature and weapon of a Frankenstein Homunculus. The amount of power they draw reflects this.

However, Illya recklessly stuck them all into one body. Even sealed to their lowest possible state behind a Berserker Switch, Chloe goes from full to empty in three days. That's not even accounting for any physical activity!

Illya managed to get a lucky, though. Galvanic Circuits convert both electricity and Prana into Galvanic Energy. It's a fact she's reminded of every night when she transfers Prana to her sister. The authorities would notice if a lightning bolt worth of power disappeared from their electrical lines every day, and suspicion from a military dictatorship would interfere with their travels.

The solution to this problem is similarly simple. Find or create an alternate power source. After that memory-dream, Illya is thinking about creating a Philosopher's Stone.

It's the third problem that's the real doozy.

Illya wanted to make a Frankenstein Homunculus familiar from her old body without letting it become a corpse first. Since it'd be a living, thinking being, even if only due to the Galvanic Current running through it, it would eventually grow itself a new soul if it survived long enough. The Einzberns discovered this long ago in their pursuit of homunculus creation.

The problem stems from the fact that no one knows what might happen if a Frankenstein Homunculus gains a soul. A Frankenstein may be influenced by the memories of the donor brain, but they are already a different person. Even if they have all their donor brain's memories and knowledge, which is far from guaranteed, their prospective is skewed due to their inherent flaws as homunculi.

It is that flaw that worries Illya so much.

All Frankensteins have an obsession. It's part of their driving force. It becomes a core feature of who they are. They can't help it, nor can they avoid it. In that way, they are much like a person who has learned of their Origin.

A Frankenstein Homunculus' obsession revolves around something or someone that made a significant impact on the life of the donor brain.

Chloe's obsession revolves around maids.

Illya isn't sure how to feel about that for many reasons.

She's glad that her little sister is willing to be subservient, but what happens when Chloe gains a soul? Would she keep her obsession, or would it disappear? Would it weaken or grow stronger? Would she be able to move past it in any of those scenarios?

Illya can't just order Chloe as if she were a regular familiar. Compulsions, geas, and mystic contracts don't seem to work here for whatever reason. That means Chloe's maid obsession is the only thing preventing her from turning against her older sister. It doesn't matter right now, but what if Illya does something, or makes Chloe do something, that her younger sister can't forgive?

What if she already has?

Will Chloe's energy consumption remain the same when she finally grows a soul of her own? Will she turn on her sister if she ever finds out Illya is a killer? Will she ever leave Illya behind if she no longer needs the infinite Prana her sister can provide?

"Was it a mistake to make myself a little sister?"

Such thoughts have plagued Illya for many nights.

It's useless to only think on it, though. Illya is more than smart enough to realize that. Something must be done, and so something _will_ be done.

She doesn't want it to have been a mistake.

"For now I'll add information about the Philospher's Stone to the search list," the snow fairy-like girl thinks. "Ah, but in that memory it was said a Philosopher's Stone is a type of photonic crystal. Maybe I should start researching crystals and light?"

Before she can ponder further, a _something_ comes into range of her senses.

Illya analyzes the anomaly after forcing herself not to jump in surprise. The first thing she notices is that it feels like the haunt of souls hiding beneath the country. It isn't as strong, large, or numerous, but it exists and that's bad enough.

Second, this haunt is in the direction of Central. That's their destination. It's still too far off to tell, but it's very possible that the haunt is waiting for them. For _her_.

They're less than ten minutes away from the station.

"Hey, Chloe?" Illya draws her sister's attention with an awkward smile.

"Yes, Onee-san?" said sister's naive gaze meets Illya's.

"I _may_ have upset a gigantic mass of lingering souls hiding beneath the country," the girl with snow colored skin admits.

"Gigantic mass of- Wait, are you saying the country is _haunted_?" Chloe's eyes widen in disbelief and fear. She doesn't wait for Illya to respond before freaking out.

"We've been living in a _haunted country_?! I've been living with you for _months_! Why is this only coming up now?!"

"It wasn't really relevant before now," Illya shrugs.

" _Not relevant?!_ Onee-sama, do you even realize what it means to be haunted?!" Chloe shouts, waving her arms around in a frightened frenzy. She continues to give Illya no time to respond as she continues her tirade. " _GHOSTS!_ It means there are _ghosts_ , Onee-san! _Ghosts_ , you know?!"

"Hey! Stop making a scene!" Illya commands, worried about the difference in what other people see and hear. Her meager strength isn't enough to stop Chloe's movements, though. Even in her sealed state, her little sister has ten times the strength of an average adult male.

Illya can only hold on and try not to get thrown off.

"Scene? What scene? You mean the one filled with _ghosts_?! What could I possibly make with a scene like that?! Corpses?!" Chloe retorts with shaking eyes that can't decide where to look and shaking hands that can't figure out what to hold on to.

Illya tries to come up with a response to that nonsense. Something to make her maid calm. Something to prevent adorable sister from rampaging and breaking the train in attempt to escape.

Illya takes too long, and Chloe's rant continues. Since Chloe's movements are getting out of hand, Illya doesn't have much choice but to get rid of the sound blocking air cushion she made. With the flip of a mental switch, Illya returns the surrounding air to normal.

Everyone in the car hears the dark skinned girl's screaming in the very next moment.

"We need to flee the country!" Chloe declares, standing up quickly and dragging Illya with her. "I'm not living somewhere with _ghosts_ , Onee-san! I can't! I can't!"

"Please calm down so we can talk!" Illya pleads from her jostling place around Chloe's shoulders. She's forced to duck and juke just to avoid her sister's flailing arms.

"Do you know what ghosts _do_? They peep at you in the bath, and eat the last slice of pie you were saving! They stare at you from behind and then disappear when you turn around! I can't do it, Onee-san! I really really can't!"

An arrow of regret pierces Illya's heart with each sentence. How shameful she is for getting caught and causing Chloe undue worry! At the same time, her heart can't help but swell with affection.

This little sister is so cute and naive! She attributed her beloved Onee-san's crimes to ghosts all on her own! There's no suspicion at all! She's even created and accepted illogical nonsense about not living with ghosts, yet still blaming Illya's crimes on those ghosts! Most of those crimes were committed in their own home, so how could it be the work of ghosts if she weren't living with ghosts already?

In her heart, Illya promises herself again to ensure Chloe's survival and happiness. There's no way she can give up her younger sister for anyone or anything! Not for death, not for taxes, and certainly not any boyfriends! Illya plans to guarantee it.

Even if she has to blanket the country with nuclear fire.

Unfortunately, Illya underestimates Chloe's fear of ghosts. The maid's tearful tantrum continues for almost the full remainder of the train ride. A nearby businessman nearly gets hit in the head once or twice, but due to Illya's timely intervention the man survives another day.

By the time Illya manages to calm her maid sister down, most of the surrounding passengers are giving them the stinkeye. It would be embarrassing if Chloe weren't so impossibly adorable.

Illya scans the crowd the moment she gets off the train. She can feel the smaller haunt of souls nearby. Actually, she can pinpoint its exact location just outside the station.

The feeling of so many souls lingering in a spot no larger than a human body is disturbing. The irregular pulsing of bound souls pressing against each other radiates from that spot. The whispers of the dead who refuse to depart floods her ears, making it seem like the crowds are more than twice the size they truly are.

It pays to be cautious, however. The lesser haunt is still a haunt of disembodied souls, and therefore needs some sort of receptacle. Unless one is skilled far beyond the norm, at least a dozen competent magi would be required to maintain a receptacle with so many souls.

In other words, the haunt can't possibly be alone.

That in mind, Illya looks through the eyes of a Zelle perched far above the haunt holder. She ordered it into position while still on the train, but even now it seems none of the magi with the haunt have reacted to it.

It's beyond odd. Illya filled this Zelle with excessive power so it could operate far away for a long time. There's no way to hide that much power. If they have enough magi competent enough to maintain that haunt receptacle, then it's impossible for them to not sense her familiar.

It makes her uncomfortable that they're ignoring her familiar like that. She can't help wondering what tricks they have up their sleeves. Worse, she doesn't know anything about their abilities.

Illya lets the crowd flow around her as she scans for the haunt holder's allies. Minutes pass, yet she only successfully identifies the one holding the haunt. It's a beautiful lady with long black hair that flows and rolls enchantingly. Her mauve colored eyes are focused on a paper in her ladylike hands. Her dress is both conservative and provocative. Her curves and bumps...

"Mama's are a bit bigger, and she has better hips too!" Illya mutters consolations to herself, "I have infinite Prana for Wishcraft now, so reaching my 'true potential' isn't just a dream!"

From the corner of her eye she sees Chloe's head tilt in confusion. Her maid's ears are sharp by design, so it's no surprise that the tanned girl heard her sister's grumbling despite the cacophony of the busy train station. No doubt the younger girl wants an explanation, but Illya doesn't really understand it herself. She needs to buy time to figure it out.

Fortunately for her, there is a suitable distraction.

"Come Chloe!" Illya declares abruptly and with force, "We're going to hunt them down instead!"

"Huh? 'Them?' Who's 'them?'" the confused maid questions, dragging along their wheeled luggage as she follows her elder sister through the crowd.

"The part of the haunt I upset, remember? Keep up!"

Chloe stops momentarily out of shock.

"Ehh?!" she shouts with distress. "I don't remember hearing about that!"

"It's fine!" Illya calls over her shoulder, "If you're afraid of ghosts then we just need to fight them until you're not!"

"I don't think that's how it works!" Chloe shouts back before realizing she's being left behind. "Onee-san~!"

Illya giggles cutely as her younger sister's obvious devotion overrides fear. Whose fear, hers or Chloe's, she isn't sure. Maybe it's both.

Chloe's chase gives way to an impromptu game of tag. This upsets many busy adults, but neither can really find it in themselves to care. Neither do they notice the stares they get due to the maid dragging around luggage she could probably fit inside.

Eventually the station officials get mad and yell at them to play elsewhere.

As they're leaving the building, that buxom young woman holding the headache-inducing haunt blocks their path. She raises the paper she had been reading for them to see. Chloe gasps in surprise.

It's the missing persons flier for their mother.

"Illyasviel von Einzbern," the dark haired, muave-eyed woman wears a smirk oozing with confidence. "My name is Lunaria, and I believe you're looking for this woman."

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 05 - Part B**


	11. Ch009b - Heaven's Feel 05

**A/N: Zug zug.**

 **Okay, so I was re-reading FMA and I got to the part where Dominic was freaking out over old memories of Pinako. It makes me want to read a fic about her in her hayday. Anyone know of any? I only really comb this site, so there may be a good one elsewhere.**

 **Whenever I see an author putting out 5000+ word chapters every week, I can't help but wonder what they do for a living and how they haven't burned out yet.**

 **gabe d clark 1997 [Ch009a, 6/5/2017]: I'm glad you think I'm decent. Never before have I received such high praise. ;3**

 **Guest [Ch009a, 6/5/2017]: Thanks for always being polite. Unfortunately, if I progress any faster it won't feel right to me. Sorry bud. About word count, I'm actually trying to reduce it.**

 **Guest [Ch000, 6/6/2017]: Thanks. It's always heartening to hear someone stick up for me. Helps keep me going, especially when it's well reasoned. Thank you very much. Really. =D**

 **BraveWolf13 [Ch005, Ch009a, 6/14/2017]: Yep! Since the East has plenty of French names, I figured I should use some. That somehow ended up mixing with the State Alchemist titles as well as the automobile naming convention they have going, and... well, _that_ happened.**  
 **Glad you're enjoying it! =D**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch009b

Heaven's Feel 05

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern," the dark haired, mauve-eyed woman wears a smirk oozing with confidence. "My name is Lunaria, and I believe you're looking for this woman."

Her voice is silky, smooth, and sultry. Every movement of her body is alluring, even the most casual of glances. Her very existence provokes the baser instincts of man.

Lunaria watches the two girls closely. The Ishvalan child is surprised. No doubt she finds this confrontation unexpected when they haven't even spread fliers in Central yet.

Illyasviel is... smiling?

"Hello Lunaria," she replies joyously, "You are correct. We are looking for that woman. Do you have any information for us?"

The buxom woman buries her frustration and her caution before it shows on her face. Illyasviel was supposed to be thrown off by that. She's just a child, after all. Her reaction shouldn't be much different than her sister's.

Still, that is also useful information. Given the evidence, the girl undoubtedly knows _something_. Now she just needs to find out what, otherwise it was a complete waste of time for her to come here by herself.

"It's not a talk for the middle of the street," Lunaria smiles pleasantly. "How about we go somewhere more discrete?"

Illyasviel smiles back. Just as Lunaria is about to take it as acceptance and turn to lead, she notices that it suddenly became much quieter. There's no footsteps, and all talking has been reduced to a murmur.

Lunaria's eyes dart around to see what could cause the busy street to stop in its tracks, only to find that it hasn't. Everyone is still going about their day, making noise and generally being a blight upon the world. Nothing has changed except that she can't hear it.

It would be a welcome one if she didn't hear Illyasviel's reply quite clearly.

"No. I think we'll talk right here, where there are plenty of witnesses in case you get violent."

Lunaria is baffled into slack jawed shock. The girl did this? It's just like the Heavy Wind's sound barrier- no, it's better! It isn't being disturbed by all the people moving around them!

Her eyes narrow. Illyasviel did this. It couldn't be the maid, she's still reeling from the possibility of finding this woman.

However, there was no circle. There was no light of a transmutation. That means it wasn't alchemy. It must have been a special ability.

Only one kind of being has special abilities like that.

"You're a homunculus."

If Illyasviel is bothered by the accusation, she doesn't show it.

"And you're part of the group tending to the haunt of souls beneath the country," the little girl continues to smile as if she hasn't just revealed state secret of the highest order.

"How did you know that?" Lunaria glares threateningly. She knows there's little point in denying it since the child is so confident.

She notes that the Ishvalan maid, Chloe, snapped out of her stupor the moment Illyasviel was threatened. The tanned girl tries to send a threatening look back, but only manages a cute pout.

"Oh? I thought we were trading information," Illyasviel giggles impishly, drawing back the grown woman's attention. "You gave me useless, obvious, completely unrelated information. I only finished the exchange."

Lunaria thinks on that without a word. While at first it seems Illyasviel doesn't care about what she and hers do, there's something strange about the wording. Why did she call it a haunt, and why is it supposed to be obvious?

The shapely woman isn't worried. All questions will be answered with time. Once she has her answers, the girl will be disposed of.

Besides, trading information was her original plan anyway.

"Fine. Three months ago, there was a pillar of light coming from your new castle. At the same time, over ten thousand souls suddenly vanished from the haunt," Lunaria uses the new term naturally, "What did you do?"

Illyasviel opens her mouth to respond, but Lunaria cuts in.

"Don't bother denying it was you, either. You were the only outsider to visit the town that month. While it could have been alchemy, no one there knows a thing about it and the last time an alchemist visited was over ten years ago."

"You're not supposed to do that," the small girl pouts cutely. "It's cheating!"

"Please," Lunaria scoffs, "If anything it's part of the game."

Illyasviel glares at the taller woman for a moment, but ultimately relents.

"I was using the Holy Grail to cure my terminal illness," she admits shortly. "Now where's the woman in the missing persons flier you're holding?"

Lunaria raises an eyebrow at how specific the question is. It seems like the girl doesn't trust her much. Not only is she being suspected of getting violent once she has what she wants, but that she'd play word games to go back on her word!

Illyasviel isn't wrong, though.

"We haven't actually located her yet-"

"What!?"

"-but we know where she isn't."

Lunaria pauses here, partially to mess with the clearly impatient Illyasviel. It doesn't take long at all for the younger woman to calm herself and ask for more details.

"Well?"

"Oh, I thought we were trading information," Lunaria smiles pleasantly, her spiteful intentions clear as day to anyone with a brain. "You gave me mostly useless information..."

"I see," Illyasviel smiles back. "This tiny country is such a backwater that the magi here don't even know what a Holy Grail is."

Lunaria almost scoffs. Magi? As in mages? This girl thinks magic is _real_?

It isn't complete non-sense, though. There's more useful information in that line. Illyasviel is a homunculus from a country larger than Amestris. While there are plenty with more land, few have anything near the same technology level. That should narrow down who else has figured out how to make homunculi.

It wouldn't do to have more competitors.

"Just get on with it," Lunaria waves a hand as if tossing something aside.

"A Holy Grail is a nigh omnipotent wish-granting device. The one I used will take sixty years to recharge," Illyasviel explains cheerily, as if this was of absolutely no consequence at all. "After that, its seven pieces will need to be re-gathered from across the world in order to have another wish granted. Until then, the Grail will be inert and its pieces will lack their identifying markings."

Lunaria barely manages to keep her temper in check. What kind of nonsense is this? A wish granting device that splits into seven pieces and scatters to the corners of the world after use? Who would believe such a fantastical tale?

Still, there may be some truth to it. At the very least, Illyasviel doesn't think she's lying. Lunaria is pretty good at picking that sort of thing up.

"And the souls?"

"It's a _Holy_ Grail," Illyasviel shrugs, "I guess the nearby disembodied souls of the dead were purified."

Lunaria scans the smaller homunculus again. The girl is definitely hiding something. However, things should be fine as long as that "Holy Grail," whatever it truly is, doesn't activate in the next fourteen years. Even if the girl herself is a wild card, it would be difficult for her to derail the plan at this point.

That isn't to say Lunaria won't be taking precautions. It's still a threat, regardless of whether it's an actual holy item or not. She just needs to speak with her Father about it first.

"We've combed the land and the woman isn't anywhere in the South, West, or Central parts of the country."

"I see. Thank you," Illyasviel curtsies politely. Her maid also bows. The sounds of the station begin to return to normal levels.

"We'll be going, then. Good luck with your plot to take over the world or whatever it is you're using those souls for."

Lunaria wants to stop them, to demand answers to her other questions. There's little point, however. Illyasviel is a homunculus. She'll survive any immediate danger. In a crowd like this, revealing their more than human nature would be unwise.

Besides, she can always find the small homunculus later when there aren't other people around.

Lunaria sighs and turns to head back home. Father will want to hear of this, and her brothers are probably squabbling again. Sometimes, being the responsible elder sister sucked.

* * *

Illyasviel is a mysterious girl. Chloe can attest to that. Despite having spent every day of her life with her master and elder sister, there are many mysterious things that the tanned girl does not understand.

The conversation with Lunaria went almost entirely over her head. In fact, there are only three things she really got out of it.

The first and foremost is that the buxom adult woman can control ghosts. The second is that she isn't friendly toward Illya. While a ghost user makes her want to run away screaming in fear, if she's going to be Illya's enemy then Chloe will stand and fight until the end.

However, the most important thing is that Illya envies Lunaria's body!

That in mind, Chloe promises herself to help her beloved elder sister. Asking an adult whose attained "that kind" of body would help, but "that kind" of form is rare. She might have to resort to book learning.

While plotting how to help Illya and conveniently forgetting that her sister said she can do it herself with Wishcraft, the girls arrive at the address provided to them by a certain gruff State Alchemist.

They knock on the door and wait politely, but the one who answers isn't the middle aged doctor described by McDougal. It's a slightly pale young man with orange hair and golden eyes. He wears a well-fitting shirt the color of rich lilac and a pair of khaki colored slacks. Even to Chloe's untrained eyes, it looks kind of tacky.

"Er, who might you be?" the young man blinks, not having expected two girls at the doorstep. Well, not two healthy girls. Usually when girls show up at a doctor's house they have scrapes and bruises.

"I'm Illyasviel von Einzbern, and this is my sister Chloe," the other purple wearing person introduces them. "We're here to learn alchemy from Dr. Marcoh under referral from Mr. McDougal."

"One of McDougal's, huh?" the young man smiles wryly. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Seraphy Royce. Dr. Marcoh is out working right now, but he'll be back around five or six in the evening."

Seraphy opens the door wider and steps aside to let the girls through.

"Do you want to come inside to wait for him? I'm sure you're tired from your journey."

"That would be very nice, thank you," Illya smiles. She steps across the threshold, then follows Royce up to the guest rooms. Chloe, of course, trails behind with the luggage.

"Once we're settled in, could you show us where the basic alchemy books are kept? We're very interested," Illya requests as they move.

"Well, I don't think you'll get very far without guidance, but I guess it couldn't hurt," the orange haired man shrugs helplessly. "I'll bring you the books, though. Entering an alchemist's study or library without permission is incredibly rude."

"All right!" Illya throws up her hands and a cheers. Chloe also smiles brightly.

"Finally, my maid power will..." the maid sister whispers happily.

"Hm? You say something?" Seraphy asks from the front of the line.

"No, nothing," she shakes her head.

"All right," he says as he approaches a set of stairs, "Would you like some help with your luggage?"

"No thank you," Chloe replies petulantly, irked by the notion that she couldn't fullfil her maidly duties. Seraphy's doubtful face doesn't help. Never mind the fact that he sees her as a ten year old girl who's spent all day dragging around baggage likely has heavy as herself.

Just to prove she knows what she's doing, Chloe raises the entire luggage trunk above her head with a single hand. She then cheerfully brushes past Mr. Royce and walks up the stairs. The luggage is put down at the top, where she turns around to see defeated look on Seraphy's face.

By that time, he has already dropped his jaw, closed it, looked to Illya for an explanation, gotten a shrug and an amused smile, and turned his eyes back to Chloe with complete bewilderment.

The tanned girl takes his shocked countenance as a victory.

"What was that?" he can't help but ask as he climbs the steps.

"I'll explain later," Illya intervenes before Chloe can proudly extol her ability as a maid.

"I- but that-" Illya's glare forces his blabbering mouth shut. Seraphy runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regain some measure of composure. After a second or three, he sighs, nods a few times, and drops his hand to the railing.

"Okay. Sure. Later then."

Not that Illya bothered to wait for him. She reaches the top just as he's finally responding. Chloe falls in line three steps behind her sister as the pale girl starts opening doors. It's rude, but that's what he gets for asking a question that irritates her Onee-san!

Conveniently, she doesn't seem to remember that Illya was trying to stop her from letting family secrets slip. Coincidentally, she also doesn't remember how Illya has been trying to fix this recurring problem since day one. It's a very convenient coincidence for Chloe.

The first door on the left is the bathroom. The first door on the right is a storage closet. The second door on the right looks like a girl's room. It has pink sheets and floral curtains. There are dolls and books with pictures of anatomical models strewn across the bed, desk, and floor.

Chloe, having been raised in an alchemist household, sees nothing wrong with this. It's a doctor's house, so the books should be about doctoring. It's common sense.

Therefore, the life-size poster of the human nervous system next to the bed should also be common sense for a kid in a doctor's household. Same for the similarly life-sized model of a human skeleton hanging in the closet. The dolls with their finely detailed cloth organs left removed must also be perfectly normal.

"Hey, don't go into other people's rooms without permission!" Mr. Royce scolds the girls even as he drags them from the room.

Chloe wants to make him let go, but her body weight is only that of a little girl. Since she doesn't want the luggage bag to get damaged, she can't use it as an anchor. Since Illya instructed her not to hit others until she's completed her maid training, she can't knock away his hand either.

Illya seems to be fine with it too, so Chloe can't muster up the will to fight.

After that the two are guided properly to the guest room across the hall. Seraphy leaves to go get the books he promised. Setting up their things doesn't take longer than two minutes since they refined the process after a month of travel.

The problems start arriving the moment Seraphy returns with the books.

"It's later," he reminds Illya, placing the texts on the nightstand.

"Maid Power," she replies shortly, already cracking open a book. Chloe follows her example, eager to begin her studies.

"Please elaborate."

"It's a mysterious, amazing power that's been in the family for generations. To use it, one must be able to tap into the energies inherent in every living thing, have the spirit of a servant, and wear a maid uniform," she states casually and without much thought, her attention firmly on the book in front of her. "The rest is a family secret. If I were to tell you, I'd have to kill you afterwards."

Chloe doesn't listen to any more than that. After all, that's the standard explanation. Illya never lets it go any farther than that, either, so there's no point in paying attention. The conversation is pretty much over.

The next time Chloe looks up from her book is when the next problem arrives.

Said problem comes in the form of a five year old girl with red hair and brown eyes. She enters the room without Illya noticing. Before Chloe can stop her, the redhead has put her face between Illya and her book.

"Hi!"

Illya, unsurprisingly, shrieks in surprise.

"I'm Corniche! What's your name?" the new girl asks, completely unperturbed by Illya's screaming.

"What the heck! Don't just suddenly appear like that!" the pale girl shouts in response.

Chloe may only be a few months old, but even she can tell that there will be a lot more screaming from now on.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 06**


	12. Ch010 - Heaven's Feel 06

**A/N: Hrm. Because reasons. Also, I find it unreasonable that their plan could be so easily thwarted when they've had 500 years to plan the damn thing. Gotta change things up a little.**

 **Speaking of which, Fate/Apocrypha anime is out~~! Whoo! (Those golems, though! X3)**

 **Not satisfied with the flow of this chapter, but I'm not sure what I could have done about it.**

 **This chapter took a long time because I was agonizing over a single line. Seriously. It would have been up a week ago otherwise.**

 **auraofcalm [Ch009b, 6/22/2017]: Ho~ Pretty good. I like it.**  
 **Good timing, too. The topics you brought up will be covered to some extent in the next chapter or three.**  
 **Well, since the real Heaven's Feel isn't adequately explained, I'm having fun coloring inside the few lines they've given us. X3**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch010

Heaven's Feel 06

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern closes the book with a frown.

Impossible.

What's written in the book is simply not possible. The rules of reality and of The World do not allow it. Alchemy _does not work that way._

Actually, alchemy works similarly to the way stated in the book. However, to power a formalcraft transmutation using the energy of _tectonic movement_ instead of Prana? To declare alchemy a _science_ instead of an actualized mystery?

"Impossible."

"Huh? What's impossible?" Corniche asks like the curious child she is.

"Hey Corniche, do you know where Seraphy is?" Illya asks impatiently, a hard look in her eye.

"Onee-san...?" Chloe looks on with concern.

"Uh... It's almost five, so my brother should be cooking dinner," Corniche replies.

"Thanks."

Illya gets up and rushes down to the kitchen. There's a delicious smell tickling her nose, but she ignores it. This is too important.

"Seraphy!" Illya shouts as she bursts into the combined cooking and dining area, "You're Dr. Marcoh's apprentice, right? Show me a transmutation! I need to see it!"

Seraphy, who was cooking a tomato soup and hot sandwich combo quite peacefully until that moment, can only respond one way.

"Huh?"

Illya is not amused.

"Show me!" she demands. She's aware of her unladylike behavior, but this is too strange. If it's true, the implications are monumental.

"... Can it wait until after I've finished making dinner?"

"You're making soup and grilled meat on toasted bread," Illya deadpans, "No!"

"Fine," Seraphy sighs. He turns down the heat and pulls a piece of chalk from his shirt pocket.

The orange-haired alchemist draws his transmutation circle on the table and throws a piece of junk mail in it. Pressing his fingertips on the edge of the circle, the chalk marks light up and bolts of electricity crackle. When they die down, the letter has become a folded paper crane.

"There, happy now?" he snarks at Illya.

But she isn't listening.

Illya is too busy trying to regather herself after having her mind blown and world flipped upside down.

Seraphy did not activate any magic circuits. He did not use any Prana. He did not call on any Mana in the world around him.

Yet the formalcraft transmutation circle still worked.

It shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't be able to do that. It's _impossible._

Except it isn't. It clearly happened. He clearly performed alchemy without any form of magical art.

Again, it should be impossible. Even if the Thaumaturgical Theory of alchemy works in this land, that only applies to magi. A mundane human shouldn't be capable of it.

Unless alchemy really is the science the book said it was.

However, her own alchemy still works and is still magecraft, with all the benefits and restrictions that entails. Even if her other magecraft doesn't work, it's clear that it that the Thaumaturgical Theory she's most used to working with still applies to her. She's just stuck somewhere so far out in the sticks that only alchemy still works, and only because they have their own brand of alchemy that they can apply "faith" to.

Except that isn't making much sense anymore. There are more than enough people here who believe, or at least know of and can't disprove, magic exists. To the World, that sneaking suspicion from not being able to solidly prove it as not real counts as "faith," which would extend the Thaumaturgical Theory to Amestris. She should be able to use other forms of magecraft.

Unless it isn't the Thaumaturgical Theory that's allowing her to use alchemy.

It's strange a thought, but it sticks with her. What if it isn't the Thaumaturgical Theory embedded in the land that is allowing her to perform alchemy? What if the distance to other Thaumaturgical Theories that allow her other magecraft isn't the problem?

The answer to this can only be that the fundimental laws of reality have changed from what she remembers.

It seems completely outrageous to her, but it fits well. Scarily well. Too well, and she really wants it to be a coincidence.

There's well documented evidence of such things happening twice before. Once was around the beginning of the first century, when the Age of the Gods ended. The other was around the end of the twelfth century, when the Age of Fairies came to a close. It is now the Age of Man.

At least, it _should_ be.

If the rules have changed, then has the Age changed? If it has, is it humanity's fault? If so, what did they do? Isn't Gaia more inclined to just kill humanity off?

And if the laws have changed, what are the new rules anyway?

"Onee-sama!"

Illya is broken from her thoughts by the tearful cries of her little sister... and a hard slap on the cheek.

"Owie..." Illya holds her stinging face, the red mark already fading. "What was that for?"

"I'm sorry! You weren't responding at all!" Chloe replies pitifully. "I tried calling you again and again, but you didn't answer! I waved my hands in front of your face, but you didn't see them!"

"Yeah yeah!" Corniche chips in. "We even pinched your arm and everything!"

"Hey, we promised not to tell her that!"

"You slapped her way harder, though. Does it even matter anymore?"

" _Girls_ ," Seraphy scolds them. They heed the warning. He nods and offers a hand to Illya, who had been knocked to the floor by the force of Chloe's slap.

"Are you all right? You looked quite shocked."

"I'm fine. I was just surprised by how similar it was despite being so different," Illya shakes her head and takes his hand.

"Then... it's compatible?" Chloe asks hopefully.

Illya looks in a completely different direction.

"It's compatible, right?!"

"Probably," Illya replies while meeting Chloe's eyes, done teasing her adorable maid sister. "I'll need to do some testing, but it should be possible."

"Yay!"

"Hold on, what are you talking about?" Seraphy forces himself into to the conversation. "Similarity? Compatibility? To what?"

"Maid Power, of course!" Chloe chimes cheerily.

"Learning alchemy to see if it can be used with our family's arts is the reason we're here," Illya clarifies. "Speaking of which, where's the phone? Some friends I made a while back are watching the house for us and I told them I'd call when we got to Central."

"... It's in the living room over there," Seraphy points. He has too many questions, and the man most likely to answer any of them is still at work.

He'd ask Illya himself, but the girl has already threatened to kill him. McDougal picks up orphans from many different walks of life. Who knows if Illya is bluffing or not?

Illya, on the other hand, sighs as she walks out the door. She hadn't exactly lied back there. She does need to make a phone call back to her castle.

The friends she convinced to watch the place won't be there, though. It's only mid-afternoon. Any adults able enough would be at work, and any kids old enough would be at school. Plus, her castle is a lengthy walk up the mountain.

This doesn't mean that no one will pick up the phone.

"Atelier Einzbern, Neun speaking. How may I help you?" an androgynous voice speaks clearly and professionally.

"It's Illya. We've arrived safely."

"Milady! It's too good to hear your voice again!" Neun's voice brightens, "How are the amenities?"

"They don't compare to home, but they'll do. I've already made a big discovery, though I'll need time to test and verify it. I'll tell you about it later."

"That is your prerogative, Milady," Neun defers gracefully, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"McDougal's a soldier. See if you can't find him an appropriate gift to show our appreciation."

"Should it be in material goods or information, Milady?"

"I'll leave it to you. Consider it training."

"Understood. How else may I serve?"

Illya feels Chloe approach. She turns to meet her sister's gaze. The maid mouths that dinner is ready so she doesn't interrupt the call.

"Hmm... No new tasks," Illya nods. "Dinner's ready, so I'll be going. Take care of yourself Neun."

"You as well, Milady."

Illya hangs up after that and returns to the kitchen with Chloe. The food is warm and tasty. Her only complaint is that the company could be better.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern lays still in bed while her mind tosses and turns. What she's learned today is keeping her up. Even cuddling with Chloe isn't helping her sleep.

She's impatient to learn more Amestrian alchemy and test just how different it is from her own. With that knowledge, maybe she can figure out what's really going on. The history books she devoured while travelling haven't shed any light on the situation.

However, the two people who might teach her couldn't tonight. Seraphy had his hands full taking care of his little sister, and Dr. Marcoh had to work late due to a staff injury. Sneaking into Marcoh's study also isn't an option.

Well, it's not that Illya can't do it. It's just that she isn't familiar with Amestrian alchemy yet. Who knows what kind of traps might be in there? They aren't magical in nature, so she can't sense them. What if one of them can actually harm her?

With a tired sigh, the pale homunculus looks out the window. It's harder to see the stars in the city. The unfamiliar stars have been a constant in her memories until now. Even as she gets used to trains, racial discrimination, and everything else in this country, she still hasn't gotten used to the stars. The familiar way they stay unfamiliar is... strangely comforting.

That comfort doesn't help her sleep, however. Normally it would be enough with the stars overhead and her sister in her arms, but not tonight. Her entire world has been flipped upside down.

Proper Magi would call it a Paradigm Shift. An irreversible change, one that could never be taken back. They would say, "The Age of the Gods had ended, the Age of Fairies had ended, and the Age of Man has arrived. And surely, beyond that, another new Age lay waiting beyond the horizon."

Illya can't help wondering if she's a relic of a past Age like her ancestors before her. One who came from a time where Mystery was greater and Magecraft more powerful, stuck in an era where it has declined in favor of science. Her unending endevors and her family's dangerous forays into the secrets of Magecraft made null because Humanity forced the World to flip the table.

Except the rules don't seem to have changed much. Magecraft still works - as long as it's alchemy. Alchemy is allowed, therefore the majority of Einzbern Magecraft is allowed.

Illya is the culmination of the entirety of Einzbern Magecraft. In form, in knowledge, and in ability, she is the pinnacle of the Einzbern family's research. Though almost everything still works in this new World, what if the Einzberns hadn't focused on alchemy?

There's no point thinking about it since it didn't happen, but...

"Onee-san?" Chloe's whisper fills the dark room, "Are you okay?"

"No," Illya sighs again, "My thoughts keep going in circles and bad directions. I need a distraction."

"Well, you already filled me up tonight..." Chloe blushes, which goes unnoticed on her dark skin in the dark room, "So why don't you go explore the city?"

"Eh?" Illya blinks, taken aback by the suggestion.

"You can turn invisible, make illusions, and block sound so people don't know when you're coming and going, right?" Chloe continues innocently. "No one can hurt you if they don't know you're there, so isn't it fine to go exploring?"

"First of all..." Illya tries to object, to say Chloe's mistaken. She stops because it would be a pain to explain how a materialized soul is similar to a Servant and an Elemental. The difference between a physical body and an astral, spiritual body with material form is functionally nothing if she doesn't get attacked.

Okay, except for the part where the spiritual body can be immaterial. The cost of switching between material and immaterial is a drop in the bucket for Illya, and when immaterial she can still interact with the material world despite being able to walk through walls.

It's almost like she's a ghost or something.

Still, Chloe's not wrong despite being off the mark. No one should be able to detect her while immaterial. Even if they can, unless an attack carries Mystery it can't harm her.

That doesn't mean she can't be killed.

In truth, she's materialized three times over. The first is to make her soul a concrete existence that needs no body, physical, spiritual, or otherwise. The second is to make it more solid by transmuting it to an astral body using the blueprint of her body stored in her soul. Materializing that astral body to physical form is actually the easiest part, since Gaia can and has done it before for powerful nature spirits.

If someone attacks her physical form without Mystery, the nature of her astral body and her infinite prana will allow her to just regenerate no matter how grievous it is. Even if she's disintegrated, she won't have taken any damage because her body is that of a spirit. The mundane can't harm spirits, so no mundane attack will ever kill her.

However, even if they used an attack with Mystery it would be difficult to kill her. Every inch of her is a materialized soul, and she is the master of the Third True Magic. She won't die as long as she isn't completely obliterated in one attack or her soul isn't exorcised.

In short, as long as she doesn't come across an Executor of the Church, or a strange Magecraft or alchemy that targets the soul, she should be fine.

"Wait... Church?" Illya mumbles, not remembering where that information came from.

A memory suddenly resurfaces. She's hugging her brother. The warmth of family is familiar, foreign, and wonderful. From the corner of her eye, a girl in red with black twintails is looking shocked. Behind the girl in red is an uphill road, a large church at its peak. They were just leaving.

It's so surprising that Illya is too stunned to notice the path into her own mind until it's almost already closed.

She tries to follow the thread of memory and is hit by mind numbing pain. The small girl can't help grabbing her head and curling up, but she grits her teeth and doesn't stop. There's clearly something in her memory about the Church that's connected to her brother!

"Onee-san? What's wrong?" Chloe worries. The pained sounds coming from her sister are bad, but there doesn't seem to be any cause! In other words, something she can't see is hurting Illya!

"The Holy Church..." Illya moans, trying to find an avenue to the memories locked in her own mind. There must be something, so Illya reaches out to find it. Even if it's useless, something is better than nothing.

"Holy Church...? I don't understand, what's a Church? Is is like a Grail? Do you need one?" Chloe holds her sister tighter, confused and frightened.

Fortunately, her ignorant words are just what Illya needs.

"Holy... Grail? That's right...! The Church sends a supervisor for the Holy Grail War," Illya murmurs slowly. Saying it aloud hurts, but it makes it feel more real. Hopefully that'll make it harder to forget, and maybe Chloe can help by listening.

"We were leaving the Church after seeing the supervisor. We had made an alliance and were returning to- hrk!" Illya's fingers clutch the fabric on Chloe's back. She can't move any more than that. _That place_ is too painful to remember. She stumbles from the path without cutting a new one, falling into thickets of thorn and fire.

"Onee-san?!" She hears Chloe's call through the pain. She forces her back onto the path and away from the new door leading to _that place_. Just touching it is like sticking her fingers in lava.

Unfortunately, straying from the path just once has cost her. The resistance is too strong. She can't continue.

Illya blacks out.

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern is a homunculus."

The room is dark. The sounds of strange machines and bubbling liquids serve as background noise. In the light, only an old man sitting on a stone throne can be seen.

"More competition? Why didn't you eliminate it then?" demands an irritated voice that is hard to pin down as male or female. "And why the hell are the lights off? I know they're not broken!"

"Is it a problem?" a person with overlapping voices replies with contempt. "Are you still afraid of the dark?"

"Pride, Envy, please," the old man raises a hand, "You know I don't like it when my children fight before me."

"Yes Father," they both reply.

"Now Lust, please explain. Who is Illyasviel," the old man asks reasonably, "and why are they important enough that you called everyone here?"

"Yes Father," a black haired, muave eyed, well endowed woman steps into the light and begins her report.

"Illyasviel is a small, white haired homunculus that looks like a child. I had a talk with her in front of the train station, where she casually revealed her wind manipulation powers and confirmed she's a homunculus."

"Wait, you _talked_ with her? Are you even listening to yourself?" the androgynous voice berates her. "She's the enemy! You should have just killed her and been done with it."

"She has wind manipulation powers, you fool," the overlapping voice retorts, "If a human like the Heavy Wind can prevent sound from escaping an area, a homunculus with control over the air is certainly her superior. Plus, killing someone that looks like a child in front of a busy train station would draw too much attention."

"That's right, Pride," the woman now identified as Lust says before the two could bicker again. "More importantly, I originally approached her as part of my investigation into the lost souls."

"Oh?" the old man dubbed Father leans forward slightly with interest. "What did you learn?"

"She claims it was the effect of using something called a 'Holy Grail,' a nigh omnipotent wish-granting device. It apparently takes sixty years to recharge. Once used, it splits into seven pieces and scatters across the globe."

"And you believed that!?" the androgynous voice, who is Envy by process of elimination, laughs at his foolish sister.

"Of course not!" Lust denies instantly, "What matters is that _she_ believes it. She believes us to be 'magi' who are 'tending to the haunt of souls beneath the country.' Whatever kind of homunculus she is, being able to detect souls might be a basic function."

"That would make sense. All homunculi have superior abilities. Depending on the methods used to create them, it could result in new basic abilities," Father nods. "For example, **that woman's** homunculi do not regenerate, but their base parameters are higher."

None of his children reply. Part of it is that they're clearly not pleased with the nonchalant comparison with the enemy. The more important part is that they know their Father is displeased.

He never likes talking about _that woman_ after all. Even thinking it in their minds doesn't have the same weight or malice in it as their Father, no matter how casual their progenitor's voice actually was.

"Moving on," Lust tucks her hair behind her ear, "She's from a foreign land advanced enough that she called Central City a backwater. So far, we know her goals to be using the Holy Grail to cure her 'terminal illness,' finding missing members of her family, and learning alchemy."

"Terminal illness? A defect in her creation, perhaps?" Father thinks aloud.

"That's what she said, and she didn't seem to be lying," Lust nods. "Whatever the pillar of light was, it was the work of powerful alchemy. If she did have a fatal defect, then this 'Holy Grail' might have been capable of fixing it since used so many souls."

"Hm... Believes in magic, uses strange alchemic devices, calls this country a backwater..." the old man strokes his beard, "I see. She's a remnant of Salsburg."

"Salsburg? What's that?" a new, naive voice enters the conversation, "Is it tasty?"

"No Gluttony, Salsburg is not food," Father informs him. "You are not at fault for your ignorance, though. It was the world's alchemy superpower seven hundred years ago, before even my time. They believed alchemy to be a form of magic, and it caused their downfall when they inevitably reached beyond what they could handle."

Father pauses, as if to think.

"Still, their alchemy performed some truly unbelievable feats. Even now, relics of that country are of considerable worth. They specialized in creating tools with odd capabilities, so a wish-granting Holy Grail isn't outside the realm of possibility. They've created weapons that attack the soul before as well."

None of his children speak. Their esteemed father said it, so it must be true. A Holy Grail is possible using the alchemy of Salsburg.

That doesn't mean its alchemy is superior, though. The oldest of them four hundred and has heard the tale of Salsburg before. Their destruction was caused by their king commissioning a strange weapon, then going mad with his newfound power. He conquered vast amounts of land, but was betrayed by his subjects that had come to fear him.

Not only that, but the alchemy institute that created the weapon was an island in the sky. They has massive benefits under the king's rule. When he died, they tried to do more than they were capable of. The inevitable rebound dropped the island from the sky, crushing the lands below.

In the end, Salsburg was destroyed by its own weight. It covered too much land and had too many people of different cultures. Without the might of that king or his alchemists to hold it together, it was unsustainable. The bad blood created by that conquering king made the revolts all the worse once he was gone as the oppressed countries took revenge on the original Kingdom of Salsburg.

That country's tragedy is the origin of the phrase, "Alchemist, be thou for the people."

"How goes her other goals?" Father inquires.

"I have no idea why she's looking for her 'family,' if that's who they really are," Lust makes her suspicions plain, "or why she wants to learn alchemy. There's been no word on the people she's searching for, either. However, I've found that she gained apprenticeship with Tim Marcoh, the Crystal Alchemist, on recommendation from Isaac McDougal, the Freezing Alchemist."

"McDougal has a weakness for children. It seems someone's finally taking advantage of it," Pride's smirk can be heard in his voice.

"Is that a challenge?" Envy growls back, half-serious.

"It might be... for you," Pride goads. "But that's not important. If Illyasviel was made child-like, it must be for a reason."

"You think it might all be a big lie?" the buxom woman's eyes narrow.

"It's entirely possible, especially if she's one of _that woman's_ creations."

Another silence falls. As Pride said, it's entirely possible if it's _that woman._ She is the only true enemy, the only one who can and has been able to throw a wrench into their plans.

Her skill has been acknowledged. They can't afford to take her lightly. If their Father can do something, then it's reasonable to expect _that woman_ capable of it as well. If it's using a child-like homunculus for infiltration, then Father's been doing it for ages.

The only question is what setting _that woman_ will use.

"Lust, did Illyasviel seem like she would get in our way?" Father asks suddenly.

"No," she replies equally swiftly, "She was highly dismissive. She even wished us good luck with our 'world domination or whatever.'"

"Excellent," he smiles, revealing all of his teeth.

"Then perhaps she can be useful."

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 07**


	13. Ch011 - Heaven's Feel 07

**A/N: I have to say, it was tough deciding not to use the Oroboros Homonculi's epitets. The deciding factor was that if I did that, I would have to change their regular names to latin in order to preserve the effect and purpose of them. Y'know, translation stuff that didn't quite make it during localization. Superbia and Gula sound all right, but Luxuria and Invidia I have mixed feelings about.**

 **I wrote all of the above, but I haven't checked my reviews yet. I know the last chapter was kind of... meh, so I've been putting it off due to fear. It's pathetic, but I guess I'm still that kind of childish person?**

 ***finally reads the reviews* Oh my god. I am** ** _so freaking_** **pleased me to hear your praise about last chapter, guys. Like, really. I'm crying in relief that it was well-received. I thought there was a bit too much explaining random things, but... So happy! TAT**

 **... Though I suppose that's kind of pathetic in a different manner.**

 **gabe d clark 1997 [7/10/2017, Ch010]: To be fair, he's an accidental child. Try not to tease him too much. XD**

 **a crashclown [7/10/2017, Ch010]: I don't recall that about the Age of Man or Nobunaga's Era, but I'll look into it.**  
 **EDIT: Found it. It was on Sakura Saber's wikia page. Details are slightly different, but... still, good eye!**

 **Guest [7/10/2017, Ch010]: That's to be revealed... later! Or maybe never. You need "mystery" for magecraft, after all. ;D**

 **Guest [7/11/2017, Ch010]: 1 : I'm glad you're enjoying it! Still trying to hammer out two chapters a month, so you won't have to wait too long if things go as planned.**

 **Guest [7/11/2017, Ch010]: 2 : Neun is... [REDACTED DUE TO FFNET NOT ALLOWING STRIKETHROUGH FOR SOME REASON]** **going to appear more during the Freezing chapters for now. I've started putting the next chapter's title at the bottom of the page, so you can know what to expect next.**

 **northernlion196 [7/11/2017, Ch010]: Well, I don't think-  
** ***massive crash*  
** **"Excuse me?! Maids don't froth! They bubble! With cleanliness and cuteness!"  
** **... You heard the lady.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch011

Heaven's Feel 07

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern! How many times do I have to tell you not to read at the dinner table!" the prodigy doctor with bad fashion sense lectures, snatching the book from the white-haired girl's hands.

"No wait! Please! I was just getting to the good part!" the twenty year old loli homunculus begs.

"This happens every time. You read at dinner, big brother takes your book. Why don't you just stop? Dinnertime is supposed to be peaceful!" a five year old, red-haired, brown-eyed little sister lets her complaints slip out.

"But if I don't read, I'll die! Is that what you want, Corniche?" Illya pouts with her cheeks puffed up.

"Seraphy, if Illya dies can I perform her autopsy for my birthday?" Corniche raises her hand as if she's in the classroom.

"No! You know you're not allowed to use knives until you're eight!" Seraphy scolds. Illya reaches out to sneakily read another few lines, but he thwarts her easily by closing the book. Unfortunately, this only turns the man's wrath on her. "And you! Lying is bad! Stop it!"

"But it's true!" Chloe tries to help. "There are ghosts after us! Alchemy may be the only way to protect ourselves!"

"Chloe," the orange haired man remarks through grit teeth, "I've said it before and I'll say it again: Ghosts _are not real_. There isn't even empirical evidence that the _soul_ exists. If you're going to be alc- wait, this isn't an alchemy book. This is a medical text."

"Of course it isn't!" Illya continues to pout. "I finished all the basic alchemy books yesterday!"

Seraphy opens his mouth to protest, to say it's only been a month and she can't have absorbed the material that quickly. He can't, though. It would be terribly hypocritical of him, the genius that absorbed everything Dr. Marcoh had to teach in only four years. Though the basics of alchemy took him three months, he was learning it part time in between studying medicine and caring for a child.

It clearly isn't impossible.

"Then I suppose you won't mind me testing you on it?" a gentle voice floats in from the door. A moment later, Tim Marcoh's smiling face enters the room. The middle-aged man looks both tired and full of energy, a strange state of being after a long day at work.

"Will it be a practical?" Illya asks eagerly.

"Hmm," Marcoh thinks jovially, "Only if you ace the written test."

"Yay!" she throws her hands up in the air. "No more easy stuff for me!"

"That's only if you pass," Seraphy reminds her.

"She'll pass!" Chloe insists instantly.

"I don't know," Corniche frowns, "My big brother doesn't think she can do it, so she probably can't."

"Hey, I never said that! Don't put words in my mouth!" Seraphy denies strongly.

"She'll pass!" the maid insists more forcefully.

"No one's saying she won't," he tries to placate the maid. "It's just-"

"She'll pass!" Chloe says with a whirlpool of intensity in her eyes.

Illya can't take it anymore.

"So cute!" the elder Einzbern cries, hugging her little sister and rubbing their faces together.

"Ah! Wait, Onee-san! It's embarrassing!"

"Now now, let's all calm down," Dr. Marcoh chuckles kindly. "Seraphy went and made us all a nice dinner. It'd be a shame if we couldn't enjoy it while it's still hot."

With words alone, Marcoh brings the daily commotion to an end. Well, since Marcoh is feeding, housing, and teaching them all for free, no one could disagree even if they wanted to. He's a good man and has earned the gratitude he's given.

Illya can only hope he won't get caught up in the upcoming struggle.

That haunt holder, Lunaria, has been following her around. Not only that, but the big boobed woman is being accompanied by another haunt holder. Illya can sense them coming and going whenever they get near.

Though she should be able to track them from almost everywhere in the city, there's another massive group of souls. It's so large and powerful that it becomes harder for Illya to sense lesser things. Since it's beneath the city, the small homunculus figures it's likely the core of the main haunt. It's at least a few thousand souls strong.

Illya isn't exactly sure what they want. However, she can infer a few things, the most crucial of which is that they don't know much about magecraft. In fact, they might not know anything at all.

It seems completely outrageous to her, but it stems from the simple fact that this country's alchemy _is not magecraft_. More than that, it isn't magical in the slightest. Despite the formalcraft circles, it doesn't use magical energy. It's a science, though one that isn't completely understood.

The fundamental laws of reality are different from what she remembers, and it's honestly quite frightening.

Plus, that means that the haunt holders whom she thought were magi might not be magical at all. How transmutations of the soul could work without magecraft is currently beyond her. Whether they could truly harm her, a materialized soul and higher dimensional being, is also up for debate.

If Lunaria and her group knew of magecraft, they would definitely have done something about Illya's Zelle familiars by now. They haven't been low power or made to be covert to anyone who can sense Prana. However, none of them have been destroyed, damaged, attacked, or even noticed. Illya even tested their senses by having two or three tail Lunaria for a week.

And to that group of non-magi, she blurted out details about the Holy Grail.

Well, there's nothing that to be done about it now except learn, research, and prepare.

Oh, and she might as well have some fun in the meantime.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is enjoying herself. Despite being stalked by alchemists after the secrets of the Holy Grail, she's been managing to have a good time. There's plenty of fun activities available now, after all.

Sparring with Chloe and training her to be more maidly, researching the Amestrian alchemy and how it differs from Einzbern alchemy, sight seeing in the city while handing out fliers, playing with Corniche...

Okay, so the list is pretty short. It's still more than enough to fill up her schedule. After a month of living in Central though, she's managed to wrangle herself a little free time. Plus, she deserves to treat herself after passing Dr. Marcoh's tests.

"Yeah! Break his legs!" Illya cheers out from her place in the crowd. One of the fighters on stage, an Ishvalan woman wearing a long white dress and a golden mask that hides the top half of her face, kicks her opponent in the knee. The six foot tall muscle man falls to the ground after an audible /snap/ fills the air. The audience surges loudly with excitement.

Using illegal underground fighting rings to train Chloe and make money at the same time has filled that empty time slot.

Creating an illusion of a grown up Chloe is simple. With Wishcraft, that is. Transmuting light in such a complex manner would normally require constant concentration, and Illya really just wants to watch her little sister destroy people for the sake of her beloved Onee-san.

Illya makes a mental note add the illusion function to Chloe's maid uniform.

Mystic codes still work, so there's no point in not doing it. Even making a mystic code that casts a spell Illya knows isn't too difficult as long as she has the necessary materials. Alchemy is a production type magecraft, after all, and Illya is the pinnacle of Einzbern alchemy.

"Whoa! Another stunning victory for Berserker!" the announcer shouts into his microphone, further riling up the crowd.

"Woo!"

Illya, of course, is also in disguise. Her chosen form is a Sella model homunculus. It feels nostalgic, though it's probably a given that she worked with one in the past. Sella models are made for magecraft, and would no doubt be useful in the Holy Grail War.

"Hm. Maybe I should make one to help run the shop..." the homunculus ponders.

"Excuse me," a greasy voice reaches her ears. Illya turns to see who it is. She immediately regrets it.

There's a short, toady man with four bodyguards surrounding him. All of them are smartly dressed, but none of them look good in their suits. They're all incredibly ugly.

"You're the manager of Berserker, right? What's your name?" the frogman demands.

"You can call me... Arbitrator!" Illya declares, taking a pose that has one leg bent, the other extended, and an elbow resting in one palm. Her torso is leaning sideways, and her red eyes peek out between the fingers of her other hand.

A certain family of J-stars would be proud.

"... Sure," the toad-like midget apparently rolls with it. "Come with me. We're gonna talk."

"What if I don't want to?" Illya pouts in a standoffish manner.

"... Then I hand you this and walk away quietly," the surprisingly unoffended frog guy holds out an envelope.

Illya takes it without any shame.

Then gunshots fill the air. Panicked screams abound. The stomping of boots and trampling of bodies surround her.

"Everyone get on the ground! This is a raid!" a good looking man in black leather shouts above the crowd. "Get on the ground! You resist, you die! You run, you die! If you understand, get on the ground!"

After some more gunfire, most people in the room are on the floor. Although everyone here can fight to some degree, they're surrounded by two layers of men with machine guns. There isn't a person here who can dodge a bullet.

The only two people still standing are a pair of women. One is an Ishvalan in a white dress, the top half of her face covered by a golden mask. The other is a slender, white-haired, red-eyed beauty in a green dress, white shirt, and brown apron.

"What if I don't want to, though?" Illya pouts, puffing up her cheeks cutely.

A gun is fired. It hits the white haired person square in the forehead. The toad-like man shudders from his place on the floor.

Not because she was shot, but because there's no blood.

"Then we shoot you," the man says after firing, no doubt feeling good about himself for the one liner.

All good feelings disappear when he realizes the body hasn't fallen.

"So, that's your answer," Illya says, the bullet pushing itself from her regenrating forehead. "What do you think we should do, Berserker?"

The Ishvalan woman screams in reply. It's a strange, terrifying scream. It penetrates the hearts of men and shakes them in their deepest parts, locking their limbs and minds with fear.

The woman with the banshee scream takes advantage of that to rush forward and break the leader's neck. Another man is folded in half with his spine broken and one more has his skull shattered before anyone starts moving again. By then, however, it's too late.

Illya claps a small card of steel between her hands. She then spreads them wide, and a veritable armory of glowing lattice swords spring forth. The rain of swords cuts through the enemy without pause or mercy.

"What the hell?!"

"A monster! A monster!"

Despite the mean names being thrown at her, Illya just giggles sweetly. After all, Chloe decided to kill all on her own! Illya's never said anything on the matter one way or the other, so that means it was Chloe's decision to kill those who would harm her Onee-san!

Today is a good day!

Well, Chloe might have a different viewpoint.

Illya tosses out two more Degen Schrotflinte, destroying large swathes of the enemy. No longer anywhere near surrounded, the people of the illegal underground arena start fighting back. Chloe also runs around and mops up, breaking people as she pleases.

Illya lets her have her fun. Some experience fighting against guns is good for her, and it isn't like she can be killed. They'd have to shoot Chloe in the head for that, and her head is protected by a good helmet Illya made herself. Not only that, but targeting her real head is impossible due to the illusion cast on her. They might shoot at it by accident, but that's what the helmet is for.

While things are dying down, Illya opens the envelope.

Her good mood immediately raises to the heavens. In it is a picture- a photograph of her brother. Though he's tied to a chair, gagged, and blindfolded, it's undoubtedly her brother.

The memory that's been haunting her every day for a month resurfaces. It was torture. Knowing that he was in the Holy Grail War as a Master, and knowing that she won that Holy Grail War. Not remembering if she did her duty as an Einzbern magus and killed him or not. Not being able to remember more about the boy himself because the path from that memory has closed.

This picture is more relieving than worrysome, however. After all, it's proof that her brother is still alive. How could it be a bad thing?

Today is an overwhelmingly good day.

There are a few questions she needs answered, though.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is a kid from money. It's not hard to find out, either. Just ask any of the pawn brokers or jewelers she visits and you'll find she's selling high quality diamonds for travel expenses.

She's also a noble's kid. She can't be anything else when she has a freaking maid following her everywhere. The maid is even her own age so they can grow old together!

Yes, Illyasviel's family is loaded and influencial. If she's out spreading fliers to find missing family, then what is the rest of her family doing to search? They're certainly not sitting around twiddling their thumbs! Even the illustrious old money of the Armstrong family doesn't consider diamonds to be chump change! There's no way the Einzberns would spend so much money and not work another angle.

Caleb Shark doesn't make a habit of wondering about other people's circumstances, but sometimes he just can't help getting reeled in.

Such as when Arbitrator claps another rectangular steel plate between her hands and casts a line toward the frog-like man. The steel wire splits upon reaching him, ensnaring his limbs tightly. She starts pulling him toward her with a cheery, "Soiya!"

His bodyguards have good reaction speeds, judgement, and teamwork. They immediately spring into action. One tries to cut the wire with his hidden shortsword. Another grabs the wires to create some slack, while the third takes hold of their boss and the fourth takes up a position to defend against attacks.

They aren't weak either. Caleb wouldn't have hired them if they were. Each of the large adult men is a professional bodyguard. Even if Arbitrator is a freak that doesn't die when killed, there still has to be a limit to her strength.

Though Caleb isn't exactly wrong, he's not dealing with your average freak.

"Arbitrator" is a materialized soul. She only has the strength of a normal woman. Her physical power is limited to what's in the blueprint of her soul, even if she changes form.

At least, that would be the case if she didn't know Reinforcement.

The result is three big men and their boss being dragged along the Reinforced steel wire by Reinforced homunculus muscles, while the last bodyguard looks on in shock. None of them can understand how the young woman could get that much leverage.

None of them understand who or what they're dealing with.

Caleb successfully hides his fear when Arbitrator grabs him by the face. It's an amateurish Iron Claw, but her Reinforced strength makes it impossible for him to escape. His mind stops working, unable to comprehend what just happened.

The sound of his bodyguards drawing their weapons breaks the short man from his hidden processing error.

"Put those away you morons!" he shouts at them while remembering his original objective and berating himself for freezing up. "We're just gonna talk!"

"Yes," Arbitratror smiles dangerously, "Yes we are. Let's start with where this picture was taken, shall we?"

"Hey now, calm down! We're on the same side!" the midget laughs in an attempt to dispel his nerves, "Your family's looking for the kid, right? So I put some feelers out. After all, a family that gives their kids diamonds as travel expenses can afford a little 'finders fee.'"

Arbitrator continues to smile. Caleb is almost worried he got the family resemblance wrong when a shadow seems to fall over her face. Her happy red eyes seem to glow with malicious glee.

"Is that what you thought?" she says, increasing her grip on the frog man's face painfully.

This, however, is familiar to him. Even if it's been decades since anyone has been violent with him, he knows intimidation tactics. If it's just this, he can deal.

So Caleb grits his teeth and bears it. He bears the pain, and bares his teeth. He takes pleasure in seeing Arbitrator's failed attempt to hide her surprise.

"That's right," he declares with a grit-toothed grin, "I'm not wrong either, now am I? Arbitrator."

Arbitrator seems to think for a moment, and then drops him. She can probably tell he's working in self interest and won't run yet. It's why he gave her that picture without context despite knowing what "Berseker" can do. In case she didn't want to talk at first, the picture would change her mind.

It's a plan that almost backfired, but this streetwise Shark won't ever let that truth slip.

"... Tell me," she demands, her order punctuated by Berserker breaking a man's skull with another man's skull in the background.

The toad swallows his saliva quietly. He feels that the rich girls are being a bit excessive. There's no need to threaten him when he's shown the perfect willingness to cooperate.

Not that the women would admit to it if he asked. He owns this place, though, and he's seen their coordination before. Even if there's no way Berserker could have heard Arbitrator over the crowd, she can still follow orders to break legs and bust heads.

Still, this confirms that Arbitrator and Berserker are related to Illya and Chloe. They have the same set up as well, so it wasn't hard to guess. A snowy skinned girl with white hair and red eyes, followed around by an Ishvalan servant. Confirmation is nice, though.

More importantly, he's confirmed the Einzbern family's interest.

"The slave trade's illegal, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Big buyers like Lord Corpse keep it healthy," Caleb explains while rubbing the pain from one side of his face, "That picture is from the folio for a big auction. I'll give you the whole thing with all the relevant details for..."

Before he can finish, Arbitrator has already tossed a small bag at his feet. He looks at both the bag and its thrower cautiously, but decides to open it after only a moment's hesitation. It doesn't matter if it's a bomb or poisoned since the woman can kill him anyways.

Upon opening the bag, the frog-like man finds himself suddenly much richer. The size, cut, and quality of these diamonds are /amazing/, and there are twelve of them! After a little work by a competent jeweler, he could sell each of them for huge profit! A fortune of up to fifty million Cenz now rests in his hands!

If he weren't so surprised by the gems, he might have seen Arbitrator's eyes narrow maliciously.

"This'll do. Hadny, go fetch the folder," he order one of his guards, his jaw trembling slightly as he tries to keep his composure.

He was expecting around five gems, and maybe only one of this quality. His plan is a huge success, but it's so great that his first instinct is to doubt. When something seems too good to be true, it usually is. There has to be a catch.

"That's right," Arbitrator claps her hands together, once again smiling as the frogman actively avoids flinching, "I introduced myself, but I haven't gotten your name."

"You can call me Caleb Shark," the frog boss responds without hesitation. His worries are hidden perfectly even as his mind spins here and there due to the sudden massive revenue injection.

"Well Caleb, if your information is accurate then I may call on you in the future," Illya graciously informs him. "If not, I may _call on you in the future_."

Berserker returns as if to punctuate that sentence. With her comes the smell of a lightning bolt and the sound of electricity humming in the walls. Hot steam seems to shoot from the sides of her mouth with every hot, laborious breath.

Right. The Einzberns have no catch. The Einzberns need no catch.

"I'll look forward to future business, then," the frog boss grins, looking confident. He can only hope his brave front fools the women.

He stands, finally, and brushes the dirt off of his suit. His bodyguards resume their positions. The last one, Hadny, returns with a manila folder and places it in Arbitrator's waiting hand.

"There's your info. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find out who just attacked me and why," Caleb says, then turns and walks away in a hurry. Though it's the truth, the main reason is that he needs to put his newfound wealth in a safe place. No need to tempt fate... or any of the several hundred and greedy violent customers of his arena when there are machine guns lying around.

He feels Arbitrator's eyes on him as he leaves, but doesn't turn around. Only once he's gone around the corner does he drop his confident facade. His bodyguards are trusted men who have been in his service a long time. They don't think anything less of him for it.

Caleb is hit by the need to find out more. His habit of not prying into unnecessary things has come back to bite him. It always worked for him in the past, but this time was too unexpected. He tried to make some money on incomplete intel, and he nearly lost his life.

Fortunately, he has a good method to start with.

Quickly reaching a certain room, Caleb rushes to a capped pipe on the far wall. He lets his bodyguards deal with locking the door and securing the vents. The toad-like man flips open the pipe's circular lid and peers through.

He's greeted with a bird's eye view of his arena, though it's not what he wants to see right now. He reaches to the valve handle and begins turning. The mechanism hidden in the walls shifts, and now he's looking at a different part of his arena from a different angle.

Caleb will get the view he wants, though. Each periscope's lens is hidden among the lights, both on the ceiling and the emergency lights on the wall. He made sure the Einzbern ladies were standing in front of one when he left.

"Lord Corpse again, huh?" Arbitrator speaks, looking down at the folder in hand. She opens it up and begins to scans it. She seems to quickly find what she's looking for, then starts over to read more slowly.

Though the frog-like man can't hear her, he's long perfected the skill of reading lips. What connection she has with the crime lord known only as Lord Corpse is a mystery, but it's clear what her stance regarding him is. Her eyes are predatory as she flips through the papers.

He looked through it first, so he already knows the answer to her search.

Lord Corpse will be in attendance.

"Wonderful," Arbitrator smiles brightly.

"Wonderful," he echoes sarcastically. He just sold information to someone intent on tackling Lord Corpse. He wasn't very subtle about it either. Tracking it back to him will be a snap for anyone interested.

Caleb Shark sighs, concerned that he just made the best, or worst, deal of his entire life.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 08 - Part A**


	14. Ch012a - Heaven's Feel 08

**A/N: I was re-reading Fate/stay night's Heaven's Feel route, and I was reminded that Shirou only started doing archery because Raiga convinced him to take it up in place of _sumo wrestling with adult yakuza._ It makes me wonder what would have happened in a world where Shirou never gave up sumo.**

 **Sorry for delay. I try to get the first chapter out by the 15th and the second the end of the month, but you know how it is. Life happens. Just... a lot happened this month, and I nearly died. That sucked. I'm okay now, but it sucked.**

 **In any case, I'll try to post the next chapter before the end of the month. If I can't, expect three next month.**

 **Didn't really have time to edit, so if something is off, let me know.**

 **northernlion196 [Ch011, 7/24/2017]: Glad you're enjoying yourself. =3**

 **shelwyn [Ch011, 7/25/2017]: Whoa. That's a lot of reviews. Thanks for all the feedback! As for the first chapter thing, I'll take it into consideration. It's supposed to be a Memory chapter, so... Hrm. Maybe I'll move it to later. Maybe I'll go back and add chapter titles between the author notes and the body of text.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch012a

Heaven's Feel 08

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern watches as Chloe immerses herself in the storm outside the hotel window. The tanned girl is humming a lullaby that Illya sometimes sings for her. Frankly, she's better at it than her sister.

The elder of the two is envious, but justifies it as a matter of design. Illya was made to be the Lesser Holy Grail. She wasn't even made for exercise, let alone singing.

Chloe was made with a Specialized respiratory system. From hypnotic sound waves to fear-inducing banshee screams, the maid girl can do all sorts of things. It's only natural that she has a higher aptitude for singing.

"I'm back," Illya finally rematerializes into their hotel room.

"Onee-san!" Chloe's face lights up with joy, "So? Did you find him?"

"No," Illya pouts cutely. "I searched the whole complex. Either he's being kept off-site, or they haven't shipped in the goods yet."

"Eh? You don't think Caleb-san lied?"

"No, I planted a familiar on him. He thinks the information he sold us is legitimate, so he's been worried about retaliation from Lord Corpse."

"Lord... Oh! That guy who stole the research you wanted!" the younger girl smiles, waiting to be praised for remembering.

"What- did you forget!?" Illya is forced to do a doubletake at her smiling sibling, "That research is super important for your health! There might be risks or flaws that we don't know about because they're in the notes he stole!"

"Eh? You mean you can't just fix me?" Chloe's eyes widen.

"Well, I could with Wishcraft," the snowy-haired elder sister admits with a small pout, "But one of the few things I remember is that the Einzberns are the best at homunculus creation, no exceptions. Because he stole the research, that means someone knows something about making homunculi we don't. I can't accept that."

"Are we going to beat him up?" Chloe asks innocently, as if that were the natural conclusion to come to.

"Only if he isn't willing to cut a deal," Illya nods, clearly not feeling guilt for the beating she's planning to dole out.

She was actually planning on killing Lord Corpse after making him cough up everything he knows, but life happens and plans change. Chloe isn't comfortable with killing people that don't try to kill them first, so Illya will have to refrain from murder. It's a real shame too. Enemies you let live are far more likely to be a pain in the ass later.

"Speaking of deals, Caleb has one with someone called Greed. He's apparently getting paid to tell this Greed person about promising alchemists and leads on immortality," Illya reaches into her bag to get her hairbrush. "Greed will be at the auction, so even if we don't meet him we'll still have to deal with him soon."

"Are we going to beat him up?" Chloe asks again as she prepares Illya's bed clothes.

"If he makes us," Illya nods. "That makes it three or four people we need to talk to and possibly beat up."

"Three or four?" the tanned little sister questions, taking the hairbrush from Illya to attend her master's grooming.

"Yeah," Illya hums in contentment as the maid brushes her hair, "There's a haunt holder in this city that I'm hoping to avoid, so three or four."

"Lord Corpse is one, Greed is two, the g-ghost person is a potential four..." Chloe counts aloud thoughtfully, "Who's number three then?"

Illya's window reflection smirks triumphantly against the rainy cityscape of Dublith.

"An old friend of the family."

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is displeased. Her adopted brother isn't here. The most likely scenario is that someone gave Caleb fake information in order to lure the girls here.

This, however, still means they have her brother. Whether he's dead or alive at this point is unknown. They might have decided he's outlived his usefulness...

Futhermore, Illya has no idea what purpose this serves. If she has indeed been lured here, why? The information was prepared before anyone knew her Arbitrator disguise was superhuman, and the only ones who might know that are either other magi or those haunt holders. Without any real knowledge of either group, figuring out why they want her at this auction is proving to be a challenge.

Well, all that takes a back seat to her secondary objectives now. The first of which sits before her, dressed in an ornate white suit in his private box. From the decorations of the room to the delicacies laid out before him, it's clear that this tall, pale man with waist length black hair is getting the VIP treatment.

Maybe the most peculiar thing about him is the kanji for "death" decorating his tall tophat. The man has sharp features, but he doesn't appear to be Japanese. Illya isn't quite sure how she knows that, but since a door doesn't seem to be opening she decides to put it off for later.

Standing beside the man is an attractive woman in a strange uniform. The top looks similar to the Amestrian military save for its sandy color and black armband that also bears the kanji for "death." Her bottomwear, however, is a black skirt that reaches to mid-thigh, leather boots that reach up to the knee, and black hosery covering the rest.

Her waist-length black hair is quite lovely, though. It's clear she takes care of it.

The woman says something. The man nods in response. Illya and Chloe hear neither due to the barrier of wind that is keeping Lord Corpse and his cohort from hearing them.

Then the woman turns directly toward the girls and points at them. Despite the girls being invisible, the woman points at them and motions them forward. Illya frowns.

The woman has three eyes. Two are normal, but the third rests in a vertical slit in her forehead. Her hair is parted in the center to allow a clear view.

The Einzbern alchemist drops the wind barrier first. Illya immediately notices the sound of electricity in the walls and the smell of ozone in the air. Given that the three-eyed woman could see them while invisible, she's likely a Frankenstein. More importantly, she matches the description in Dr. Tachibana's notes.

This is Tigerlily Coffin, the 5th Special Type Frakenstein. It's from the research of her creation that Chloe has gained the Flashpoint Eyes and enhanced senses. Supposedly, Tigerlily is capable of seeing through walls.

That, however, isn't enough to see through the illusion put upon the maid-zerker. Illya took the time to craft it well, covering all readings on the electromagnetic spectrum. Even if Tigerlily's vision drops to infrared or radio, raises to ultraviolet or x-ray, Chloe's disguise will hold.

That being said, Illya isn't worried about dropping the spell of invisibility as long as she maintains their disguises.

"Drop the disguise," Tigerlily glares at them once their invisibility falls. "I can see the real Arbitrator and Berserker in the audience hall."

"Ehh?" Illya plays at being surprised, "But I'm pretty sure we're the real ones?"

The ones sitting in with the crowd are illusions wrapped around familiars, after all.

"Don't play dumb," a murderous shadow falls across all three of the Frankenstein's eyes. "Even if you're the real Abritrator, the airflow around your 'Berserker' isn't right."

"Oh fine," Illya pouts, the sisters returning to normal. It's a real shame that the new illusion function in Chloe's maid uniform didn't get to see much use. Illya slaved over that for three days and two nights.

"Illyasviel von Einzbern," the Frankenstein of Lord Corpse says with little surprise, "the one who found and inherited the will of Doctor Tachibana. I wasn't expecting you to come out yourself."

"Well, it would be unbecoming of us if the family head didn't show her face when trying to cut a deal, wouldn't it?" Illya smiles cutely.

"You have my interest," Lord Corpse cuts off his subordinate's death threats before they can begin. "Come, pull up a seat. Let's talk."

Illya does so gracefully. She ends up sitting beside him, looking out into the auction hall. Truthfully, it's an opera hall that's 'closed for renovations,' so the atmosphere is surprisingly high class.

Each has their number two standing behind them to guard from sneak attacks.

"I trust you're here about the missing research notes?" Lord Corpse starts the conversation, not seeing any need for further introductions. Though his words are well-spoken and ordinary, something about them leaks a feeling of danger.

"That's right," the child-like woman nods, unconcerned by the danger in the air. She generously doesn't point out that the notes aren't missing, but stolen. "I was thinking of trading copies. Your two for two of mine, and the rest I'm willing to sell for negotiable price provided that this transaction goes well."

"And how do we know we won't be cheated?" the man in the top hat asks with the quirk of an eyebrow.

"I could ask the same thing," Illya continues to smile cheerily, "How about a little faith?"

Lord Corpse finally turns to look at the small homunculus.

"What?" Illya asks once the man's gaze lingers longer than polite, "It's not like we're giving anything up. We're trading copies."

Lord Corpse blinks, then chuckles. Few are so daring now that he's the head of a criminal empire. Fewer still have no fear of him whatsoever.

If he didn't want the rest of the Frankenstein research so badly, he would make sure to change that.

"Very well," the man marked with death nods, "I'll need time to copy the notes. How about we meet in the abandoned cannery on the south side of town in a week? Nine pm?"

"Where we will trade copies of the Special Type Frankenstein research, one for one," Illya adds to ensure he agrees beforehand to the exact details. Wouldn't want him to later say she didn't specify the details of the agreement.

"Yes, where we will trade copies of the Special Type Frankenstein research, one for one," Lord Corpse follows up. "Since your side has more than we, it's only fair that we get to choose which ones we recieve."

Illya almost doesn't respond. One of those haunt holders she's trying to avoid has entered the building. It seems he's headed for the auction hall.

"Hm?" she hums in thought as she waits for the haunt holder to appear. "And which ones would you like?"

"Sensory and Digestive system, if you wouldn't mind."

Illya sees him. A tall man with slicked-back raven hair and an Ouroboros tattoo on his left hand is walking toward her illusory duplicates. He'll reach them soon. If Illya wants to keep up the facade of Arbitrator and Berserker being different people, then it's time to end negotiations.

"Deal. See you in a week."

With that, she sets up a better invisibility spell and makes a new wind barrier so she may slip out undetected. The moment the door closes behind them, Illya rushes down the corridor with Chloe. She needs a spot to hide. If she wants to get full usage from her familiars then she'll need to focus.

Well, the fake Berserker can be left on auto-pilot unless a fight breaks out.

They pass up the bathroom and the unused VIP boxes since someone could walk in on them. They settle in a broom closet, where Illya flips over a bucket so she has a place to sit. Chloe blocks the door, shuts off the lights, and stands guard.

Illya takes a few seconds to even out her breathing, still not used to exercise. She closes her eyes, even though the lights are off and she can't see anyway. She further opens the connection to the disguised familiars in the audience, and opens her eyes.

Then she sees the man saunter over, taking a seat next to Arbitrator. Looking through the eyes of her illusory body double, she can see that his clothing is well-made. His sunglasses prevent her from seeing the color of his eyes, but he's apparently just fine with changing that since he looks over the top of them to introduce himself.

They're muave. His hair is black. He's holding at least ten thousand souls on his person right now.

"Hi, the name's Greed."

Damn it.

"I see you already know my name," the man with the Ouroboros tattoo chuckles. "That's fine. I know yours too, Arbitrator."

Illya makes sure that her cursing remains in her head this time.

"I already told Lunaria that I don't have any interest in whatever you're doing. Shoo," Arbitrator waves him away as if he were a small dog.

"Luna- Oh, you mean Lust," Greed grins widely after a moment of thought, revealing his mouth full of sharp teeth, "Well, sorry to say but I don't get along with the rest of the family anymore. I'm here on my own to try and cut a deal."

Arbitrator sighs. Even if this guy has all sorts of information she wants, she's tired and disappointed. Her brother isn't here. Lord Corpse was reasonable so she couldn't beat him up. Greed and the haunt holder are one and the same.

She's really not feeling up for anything right now.

"Are you sure you want to talk about it here? There are plenty of people who could be listening in."

"Ha ha, don't you worry your pretty little head," the haunt holder laughs. "Everyone within four seats of us is one of my people, and until the show starts it'll be too loud for anyone else to overhear."

Illya thinks that if Tigerlily or Chloe were five seats away they'd hear more than enough. The crowd isn't /that/ loud. This is an illegal operation, after all. It would be awfully suspicious if there were the sounds of so many people when the opera house is supposed to be closed for renovations.

"Fine," Arbitrator frowns in irritation. "What's your pitch?"

"Do you want to know how to make a Philosopher's Stone?"

She frowns harder. She _had_ been intending on photonic crystal research in order to make her own Philosopher's Stone. Extending Chloe's battery life is among her higher priorities.

"I would," Arbitrator admits, "but I don't think you know either."

"I know every little detail, actually," Greed chuckles. "I even know how to make a homunculus with a Stone as its core."

"And you haven't made any yourself?" Arbitrator's eyes narrow with suspicion. Greed doesn't miss the heavy interest in them either. No matter how well Arbitrator conceals it, if there's one thing he's familiar with...

"Who's to say I haven't?" Greed replies with a lopsided grin, knowing he's got her hooked now.

"I think you're lying," Arbitrator accuses.

"I may be a crook, but I don't lie sweetheart," Greed smiles, turning on his rogueish charm. It doesn't affect Arbitrator.

"I don't believe you. Give me proof."

"That can be arranged... but not here," Greed shrugs. "How about we go somewhere after this? Warehouse 17 near the Samson?"

"I have plans. The soonest I'm available is in three days," Arbitrator lies smoothly.

"That works," he nods. "Until then, watch out for Lord Corpse. He's pretty big in the underworld, and he's in town."

"Why? Is he a homunculus or something?" Arbitrator jokes, eyes still narrowed with suspicion and potential violence.

"That's right. I may have split off from the others," he confirms, then flashes the Ouroboros tattoo on his hand, "but the group he's a part of is still my enemy. They all have a Flamel tattoo, and they're all incredibly lethal."

A menacing shadow falls across Arbitrator's face. There's a shadow war happening in this country. One one side is the haunt holders, who are apparently named after the seven deadly sins and have Ouroboros tattoos. On the other are a group of unknowns with Flamel tattoos that can at least make Frankenstein Homunculi, one of which is also a homunculus. Finally there's Greed, who split from Team Ouroboros to make his own group.

And she was just forcibly thrown into the war.

"So you're saying that, since they're up in the VIP box watching this conversation, I've painted a target on my back by getting involved with you."

"That's right! The guys I split from will probably hear about it sometime too," Greed laughs.

Arbitrator takes a calming breath.

"It's Greed, Lust, and the rest of the seven deadly sins on the Ouroboros side, right?" Arbitrator inquires. "What are those on the other side called?"

"I don't know anything about the 'seven deadly sins,'" Greed shrugs and shakes his head, "but I know that Lord Corpse's real name is Patience. He's good at waiting for just the right opportunity to strike. When the time comes, he hits and he hits hard."

"Anything else?" she responds, annoyed.

"Temperance might be there too. She's a master spearwoman. She won't act without orders, though."

Arbitrator reaches up a hand and massages her temple. This is a great big mess. She's starting to think she should have left after confirming her big brother isn't here.

"... What do you want in return?" after a long moment, she asks his price through gritted teeth.

Arbitrator is understandably upset.

Just talking to Greed within Lord Corpse's view will give the latter a chance to up his price. If he finds out she's planning to deal with Greed, who knows what will happen? He might call off the exchange and try to take the research off her corpse.

That isn't even accounting for the hidden war she was just thrown into. Both sides are pretty pretentious too. Naming their leaders after the seven deadly sins and seven heavenly virtues?

Not only that, but everyone is being reasonable and willing to make a deal. At this rate, she won't get to beat up /anyone/! After a day like today, she needs some damn catharsis!

Still, she best find out what the man wants and see if it's actually something she can agree to.

"Immortality," the tall man whispers, taking care to enunciate and savor every syllable.

Like that, her hopes of dealing with an agreeable person have been dashed.

"I see you fit your namesake," Arbitrator spits out.

"That's right, I'm very greedy," he declares with a grin full of energy. "I want money! Women! Land and fame, too! I want everything in the world!"

"Naturally," he leans in close to Arbitrator's face, "I also want immortality."

Arbitrator is quiet for a moment as she thinks. There's no reason for him to ask for immortality if he can make the Philosopher's Stone on his own. Similarly, if one of his men were skilled enough then he'd already be immortal.

However, Caleb reported to Greed specifically about the fact that Arbitrator seems immortal. Greed wouldn't be bargaining the Philosopher's Stone to someone who is already immortal. If they're immortal, then wouldn't they already know how to make it? It's the Crimson Elixir and the Draught of Eternal Life, after all. Among the alchemists of this country, it's the only method of true immortality.

Unless the Stone doesn't make one immortal and he knows it.

"... Let's leave that for later," the Arbitrator turns her gaze to the stage, effectively dismissing Greed. "There's no point in anything else until you provide proof."

"Hey, I already told you my pitch. At least confirm whether you know anything or not," the tall man groans.

Arbitrator almost releases a scathing retort in her irritation, but is cut off by the announcer taking the stage. As it will be a silent auction, the lights do not dim so that the auctioneer can see the customers if they raise their assigned card to bid. The audience quiets.

Illya doesn't really listen to his speech. She's busy sending new pre-determined responses to her familiars to account for Greed and Lord Corpse. She has something she wants to do in the meantime.

"Come Chloe," Illya stands and brushes off her dress. "The third person I wanted to talk to and beat up isn't here. I found an interesting thing though, so we're going to take it on our way out."

Illya casts a spell or two, and then the pair are gone.

Moments later, a wave of black Military Police uniforms rush into the building from all sides.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 08 - Part B**


	15. Ch012b - Heaven's Feel 08

**A/N: Not gonna lie, dialogue can get hard when trying to stay in character. Illya without her memories is complicated, since she has a base personality that is shared with others of her model. However, she has been twisted by her environment. Additionally, it's been proven that a different environment growing up could lead to entirely different set of values, actions, and responses.**

 **By the way... before anyone says anything, it's totally made with alchemy. It's not any more ridiculous than using alchemy to make a creature out of _shadow_. Shadow that has physical presence and functioning eyeballs, no less!**

 **Edited previous chapters to have the title header and next chapter footer.**

 **gabe d clark 1997 [Ch012a, 8/25/2017]: Interesting idea, though then you're kind of without the part that provides energy in the first place. Still, there's merit in what you say. I'll consider it. =3**

 **northernlion196 [Ch012a, 8/25/2017]: Yes she is. She's currently pouting all over my text document. Don't worry though. She'll have some action this chapter. =D**

 **shelwyn [Ch012a, 8/25/2017]: I don't see any difference in the list it shows up on when I do that. Is there something I'm missing?**  
 **I'll look into altering that paragraph, but no promises. Can't afford to keep revising if I want to keep it moving, and this is one of those things I'd get hung up on forever.**

 **Guest [Ch012a, 8/26/2017]: I want to thank you for your detailed review. I'm glad to receive your logical, well thought out concerns. That you also take my position as writer and the story's level of completeness into account pleases me greatly. That said, let me try to address some of those very legitimate concerns.**  
 **First, yes. I know Amestrian alchemy can alter souls. Illya doesn't, however, and I do try to work within the knowledge of whoever is the focus of the scene at the time.**  
 **Second, the FMA elements are a little thin since it's 1901, and even the flashbacks of the main story don't start until 1902-1904 when Hohenheim leaves his family. I'm basically having fun filling that time period. That said, I may have introduced people a little too quickly. I'll try to see what I can do about that going forward.**  
 **Third, I by no means intend to make Illya the Ultimate Answer. Still, you're right in that it would be easy to fall into that pit. I've got a plan, though I must admit it may change over the course of writing. I'll try to keep a closer eye on it, just in case.**  
 **Finally, it will. Character development is inevitable. It's only 1901, after all. We've got fourteen years to go. X3**

 **Mangahero18 [Ch005, 8/31/2017]: Because his backstory is never expanded upon and is therefore pretty open for interpretation. The fact that he _somehow_ knew of Bradley's connections and some part of the homunculi's plans is super interesting. Basically, because I can play with him a lot.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch012b

Heaven's Feel 08

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is behind this somehow, Tigerlily Coffin is sure of it! Arbitrator threw up a blinding flash of light right before the military police barged in, after which both she and Berserker had completely disappeared! It was clearly a signal for the MPs!

Somewhere else, a certain legal loli homunculus has a slightly different take on the situation.

"What the heck?! Why the cops here?!" Illya shouts, secure in her wind barrier's ability to block sound.

The familiars she set up outside to watch for the 'family friend' never picked him up. Instead they found a bunch of military policemen surrounding the place and forcing entry. While Illya normally wouldn't care, she found a girl that would be perfect for indoctrination into maid-dom in the slave cages. Sneaking away with the girl in tow will be much harder if the police get there first!

Determined frown on her face, Illya jumps into Chloe's arms.

"Go that way!" she demands, pointing her little sister directly toward the pens. "We're going with disguise Lily!"

"What? No! That's embarrassing Onee-san!" Chloe whines.

"We're doing it!" Illya declares.

"I don't wanna," Chloe grumbles, but doesn't protest further. Instead, she raises a foot and kicks through the wall. As soon as the kicking foot falls, she runs to the next wall and gives it the same treatment. The third wall trembles in what Illya likes to think is fear, but is spared destruction.

The floor is not so fortunate.

There is little dust to kick up in either room, so but the pair are invisible so it hardly matters. They can switch into their disguises during the fall without worry.

Illya ditches the stealth spells and lands in the form of a Leysrett model, hand outstretched to show off a crescent moon shaped locket. Chloe appears as Berserker, but in a frilly bridal gown with a thick veil. Both stand surrounded by professional underworld guards and escorts in a poorly lit room.

The pale skinned girl knows just what to do.

"Moon! Prism! Power~!" she cries, raising the locket above her head. Everyone, from the guards to the enslaved people, become still as they watch the bright and colorful transformation sequence that follows. Some are flabbergasted, others are awed, but none look away nor think to interrupt.

Once the lights die down, they are treated to an outrageously busty adult woman in a pink magical girl outfit. Her short, wavy hair has a feather shaped bow holding it back. White gloves cover up to her elbows, and white boots to just above the knees. Her torso is covered with a tightly fitting pink dress, from underneath which a layer of white frills spill out.

In her hand, the moon shaped locket has transformed into a magic wand with a moon as its headpiece. The shaft is red, and where it connects to the tilted crescent moon a pair of white wings spread outwards.

"I am Moon Princess Saver!" she introduces herself, even as she continues to switch poses with the colorful magic wand twirling in her hand. "In the name of Type-Moon, I will punish evil! And that means you!"

This strange declaration of intent snaps the professional criminals out of their stupor. Many already have their weapons drawn and simply begin firing. Others start leading the merchandise to whatever escape route they may have planned.

Neither of these people accomplish their goals.

The former have their bullets blocked by Chloe, who is wielding a thick steel tower shield that Illya discretely transmuted from the cages during her transformation sequence. Due to poor positioning, only a few of the criminals are capable of firing without hitting the merchandise or their comrades. Chloe is capable of finding just where to put the shield due to the time the colorful distraction bought her.

"Good job, Berserker Lily!" Illya turns her wand on the attacking escorts. "Luna Laser!"

A ray of pure Prana shoots from the wand, blasting one of the guards straight into a wall and crushing his internal organs. The next one doesn't fare much better. The third gets a shot off, but misses due to his shaking hands.

With the primary gunmen taken out, the two quickly go about sealing the movements of the rest via the Mystic Eyes of Binding and the Flashpoint Eyes. Any that get paralyzed are promptly destroyed. Unable to resist, the guardsmen are killed off one by one and two by two.

Before the final three gangsters can be taken out, however, a spear decapitates them with a single swing. A woman in a baggy white t-shirt and black slacks steps out of the darkness. Her blonde hair is cut into a short bob, and her violet eyes glow with a mysterious light.

There is a red Flamel tattoo on her right cheek.

Illya doesn't get a good look at the spear before it's suddenly too close for comfort. Chloe barely blocks it with the shield, the lethal tip piercing the thick steel. The spearwoman responds to this inconvenience by using the shield and her momentum to vault over Chloe.

Suddenly, there is a midair stab heading toward Illya's face. The Einzbern homunculus sees it coming, on guard after seeing the spear pierce three centimeter thick steel. Unlike any fight she can recall being in, she isn't fast enough to dodge it.

While normally Illya wouldn't be worried, this is one of the Flamel group. She has little idea what they are capable of, and they can apparently oppose the Ouroboros group. Since those Ouroboros guys can manipulate souls with their alchemy, this Flamel person might be able to truly harm her.

Fortunately, Chloe has speed and reflexes enough for both of them. The maid surges toward the attack, hitting the shaft and knocking the blade off course. The initial thrust misses by more than ten centimeters, but Illya still gets a deep cut on her arm.

The Magician grits her teeth, magic circuits lighting up as she wordlessly reinforces herself. She can't make herself tougher than thick steel, at least not on short notice, so she doesn't bother with defense and throws it all into speed. Wishcraft takes too much concentration to use in a high speed fight like this.

Speed is what she needs. Illya didn't even see what cut her despite dodging the spear thrust. Her opponent is too fast.

Additionally, Illya finds that she's bleeding. Since non-magical attacks don't make her do that, it's confirmed that the enemy's attack carries Mystery. Whether it's the Flamel person or the spear, a real danger has presented itself.

All that being the case, she transmutes a wall between her and the spearwoman to buy time.

The spearwoman doesn't give the girls that time, though. She merely uses the wall as cover to skillfully attack from a hard to see angle. Chloe, perceptive and strong as designed, blocks the attack by grabbing the spear below the head.

Finally Illya can see that the spear has three double-edged blades, set at ninety degree angles so that they form a cross with the shaft. The shaft itself appears to be wood, painted a non-reflective black. One of the side blades still drips with her blood.

"Break the spear!" Illya orders Chloe over their master-familiar bond.

The Frankenstein-Einzbern homunculus doesn't even get a chance to follow through on that order. The spearwoman is too skilled to allow it. In the moment Illya took to make the command, the spear was wrenched from Chloe's grip.

Neither miss the significance of that. After all, Chloe has E Rank strength even without flipping her Berserk Switch. She literally has the strength of ten men.

Compounded with the fact that the spear can pierce three centimeter thick steel and carries enough Mystery to harm Illya, the odds are starting to look pretty bad.

Just when Illya is about to sound the retreat, their violet eyed foe stops attacking.

"White hair, pale skin, and the power of Miracles," a hard voice resounds from behind the wall. "A remnant of Salsburg. Mother's standing orders for retrieval trump Patience's."

Suddenly it clicks. This woman is the Temperance that Greed warned them about. Illya isn't so sure of her odds anymore, but since the enemy isn't taking the initiative then she might as well. The little girl disguised as a busty adult magical girl points her wand, turning the wall into a cube prison.

Something else clicks. It isn't in Illya's head, though. It comes from inside the box. She almost doesn't hear it over the sound of the slaves breaking free and the police raid going on upstairs.

Thinking quickly, Illya makes a weak Zegen familiar and has it turn invisible. She then sends it to track the girl she came down for in the first place. Her final remaining objective at the auction attended to, Illya turns back to her enemy...

"Retreat!"

... and continues to turn, running past the cube even as another click enters her ears. Illya waves her wand to drop the cube to the floor below, stubbornly refusing to drop character even though it'd be faster without the fake mystic code. Before they get too far, however, a damning sound enters their ears.

"Henshin," Temperance utters. A trio of bells chime, each higher in pitch than the last. As surprised as Illya and Chloe are to hear someone speak Japanese, they don't bother turning around. Temperance is a bit too much for them right now.

Besides, what they hear next is even weirder.

"Taka! Tora! Batta!" a male voice declares, before launching into a short song. "Ta-To-Ba~! TaToBa, Ta-To-Ba~!"

Though Illya wants to know the significance of 'Hawk, Tiger, Grasshopper,' she isn't given much time to think on it.

A loud crash lets the girls know that Temperance has bust free from her prison. Illya considers dematerializing, but doesn't want to leave Chloe to fend for herself. At least with both of them there are two targets, splitting the spearwoman's attacks and focus in half.

As the pair reach the end of the hall, Illya realizes she's having trouble turning while moving so fast. Not wanting to slow down her reinforced dash to safety by turning to the next corridor, she transmutes a hole in the wall blocking their path and rushes through. Before she can close it, Chloe tackles her to the side. A quick glance lets her see Temperance's spear embedded in the floorboards. If it weren't for Chloe, she would have been impaled and pinned to the ground.

Her magic circuits flare and the hole closes. It doesn't matter, though. Temperance just busts through it.

Between the flying splinters and wall fragments, Illya sees that Temperance has donned armor. It is mostly black, with a tri-colored circular chestpiece. The sigils of a red hawk, yellow tiger, and green grasshopper adorn the circle from top to bottom.

A red line goes up from the hawk sigil to the helm's chin. The stylized facemask is mostly red and in the shape of a bird in flight. A large, green lens sits in each wing to allow the wearer sight.

The whiskers of the yellow tiger sigil extends to each side, lining the pauldron and then trailing down the outside of the arm. It meets with the similarly yellow gauntlets. The armguards of said gauntlets each have a trio of claws folded up against the arm.

Green lines go down the torso, underneath the belt and to the knees. There they connect with the plated shinguards and boots. It is vaguely reminiscent of a grasshopper's exoskeleton.

Finally, there's the belt. It's a strange thing with a tilted belt buckle and a thick disk attached to the right hip. The buckle also has a red hawk, yellow tiger, and green grasshopper in the form of descending circles. It's like a goofy, stylized traffic light.

In that single moment, Illya takes it all in.

The next moment, she's treated to the sight of Chloe getting grabbed by the ankle and single-handedly chucked through the far wall.

Illya tries to hit Temperance with the Mystic Eyes of Binding on the off chance it might work. It doesn't. She tries to transmute a hole in the floor underneath her foe, but the armored warrior dodges it with ease. The following loosed beam of pure Prana is met with pure indifference.

Even after reinforcing her materialized spiritual body to cope with high speed combat, Illya can hardly keep track of the spearwoman's movements. It has provided a substantial improvement to speed, strength, and durability. Whatever alchemy created it is amazing.

The next thing Illya knows is that she's bent at the waist by Temperance's fist. It's an impressive feat given that the white haired girl is laying prone on her back. She can't really appreciate it from the receiving end, though.

"Submit, remnant of Salsburg," the armored woman orders, her hard voice not distorted at all by her helmet. "This is the armor used by your late king. Even in its weakened state, you cannot hope to match me so long as I wear it."

Illya trembles. Not only in pain, but in fear. For the first time since she can remember, she fears for her life.

The spearwoman's every attack carries enough Mystery to sufficiently harm the Magician. None of them have been lethal for a higher dimensional being like Illya, but that doesn't mean anything. Temperance is holding back. The armor is in a weakened state.

Temperance is far too confident to not have a trump card.

Even without that, though, Illya is afraid. The visceral nature of life or death combat frightens her. Sure, it had been great when she was in control, when she was the one on top. When ever wouldn't she be? She won the damn Holy Grail War! She's the best! Even if she doesn't remember it! Even if she doesn't have Herakles! Even so...

This is somehow different.

Any analysis is put on the back burner when Chloe's banshee scream echoes through the building. Her Berserker Switch has been flipped. Her true power has been unlocked, and her every parameter tripled. The smell of ozone fills the air as she charges from the hole her body made in the wall.

Illya's fear and her creation's battle cry spur her into action. She tries to use the distraction caused by her maid's charge to turn immaterial, to give herself space to come up with a plan. To give herself space to recover. To get to a safe place where she won't get hit anymore.

Temperance pays the Berserker no mind. Instead, she sends a vicious hook into Illya's jaw the moment she sees magic circuits light up. It rattles the red-eyed girl's concentration and causes the spell to fail.

This, somehow, causes a spectacular misfire.

Illya explodes, her Prana running out of control. Were she not a materialized soul, she would have most certainly died. Even then, she takes massive damage. The consequences of unskilled True Magic are severe.

Her consciousness is hazy, but something in her demands she seek out her sister. Her vision swims as she turns her head, but luckily she turns in the correct direction. She can see Chloe.

The maid was thrown to the far wall again, her maid outfit and disguise thoroughly destroyed. Her wounds are slowly regenerating due to her Berserk state allowing the full effects of her Specialized circulatory and integumentary systems. The damage is still extensive, horrible to the point where she still can't move.

It's worrying. Not only is regeneration the most energy intensive function Chloe has, but Temperance is _right there._ Though her armor has disappeared for some reason, the belt remains. Her spear, previously embedded in the floor after being thrown, is only a meter away.

She's standing up.

Right next to Chloe, who cannot move, Temperance stands little worse for wear. Her spear is only a step away. Once her hand grasps the spear, Chloe's short life will end.

Illya can't accept that. Though Chloe was made for her own convenience, the girl is still her little sister. Chloe is family.

Illyasviel von Einzbern is a girl who would destroy the world for her family.

She tries to move, to stand up and defend her only family, to raise her arms and defy certain death.

She cannot.

She tries to run Prana through her magic circuits. As soon as she does, blood spurts from the nearby vessels and her nerves light up with pain. The Prana dissipates, unable to be held in any meaningful way without being harmful.

Temperance steps toward her spear.

Illya's sister is in danger though, so she tries again. In her weakened state, she fails to push through the pain and loses hold of her Prana. She only ends up making her injuries worse.

Temperance reaches down for her weapon.

Chloe attempts to push herself up so she can fight the foe before her. She doesn't even get a centimeter off the floor. Though her skin has mended, her muscles haven't fully regenerated yet.

Temperance jumps back, narrowly avoiding decapitation.

Illya blinks in surprise, her blurry and wavering vision not doing a good job convincing her that someone had come to the rescue. Some man in blue is dual wielding thin swords with black blades. Said man is fast enough and skilled enough to be putting pressure on the violet eyed spearwoman.

As her vision dims, swarm of similarly blue clad people storm into the room. Combat boots surround Illya protectively, and occasionally gunfire will rattle off from nearby. The fight between the spearwoman and the swordsman darts back and forth, crossing her line of sight often. The screams of dying soldiers fill her ears, and the smell of gunpowder fills her nose.

The last thing she sees before passing out is Chloe, obscured and kept distant by the battlefield they've found themselves in.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 09**


	16. Ch013 - Heaven's Feel 09

**A/N: I know, I know. Last chapter quality isn't great. I wrote it on little sleep over the course of five days. I plan to revise it.**

 **Ah, for those who have been waiting for a Prisma Illya like development, last chapter and this chapter should be somewhat satisfying.**

 **Well, last chapter was a bit ridiculous. Still, I'm having fun with it. Therefore, writing will continue. Disheartening reviews will be . Kidding. ;)**

 **Now for the hardest part... reading the reviews.**

 **Well, I think I can sum up most review responses with this:  
** **1) Illya isn't trained for combat.  
** **2) It's not much weirder than a creature made out of shadow. Think about it. Shadow isn't even a thing. It's a lack of a thing. How do you make a living creature from it?**

 **shelwyn [Ch012b, 9/2/2017]: Yeah, the quality isn't great. I plan to re-work it at some point, give it some polish. Don't hold your breath though. I've got classes, y'know?**

 **SandInTheEye [Ch012b, 9/6/2017]: I'm super happy to hear you're enjoying yourself. This story is... well, kind of me just having fun, so hearing that you're also having fun makes me joyous beyond words. Thank you! ^.^**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch 013

Heaven's Feel 09

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is woken by the sun falling on her eyes. Groggy and unaware, she swats at it in an attempt to make it leave. Naturally, it doesn't work. In fact, it only serves to wake her up faster when pain lances through her arm.

When she finally opens her bleary eyes to see what's going on, she finds herself in a hospital bed. It's a new and novel experience for her. She doesn't particularly care for it.

One look at her bandaged hand suddenly has her fully awake. How could it not? It's a reminder of the fight that put her here.

More importantly, it's the reminder of what happens when you use True Magic unskillfully. There cannot be power without consequence, after all. Equivalent exchange is a core principle of all Magecraft, though it's slightly different than the law presiding over Amestrian alchemy.

A second glance at her arm reveals that it, and the rest of her body, has reverted to its child-like default state. The small homunculus can only assume that it happened in the explosion. Falling unconscious wouldn't have broken her transformation, and she doesn't remember dropping it.

A knock on the door draws Illya's attention. A man sitting in her room is the source of the sound. He doesn't look very awake himself.

"Hey, she's awake," he grouches through the closed door.

The sound of boots echoes softly into Illya's ears. It only gets softer over the next few seconds, so she can only assume someone is leaving. For what purpose, she doesn't know.

Illya rubs her eyes cutely, yawns, and takes a closer look at the man in her room. He's a tall and handsome man in uniform, with fair skin and surprisingly well groomed complexion. His hair is odd, blue and seaweed-ish. In his hand is a book with a strange sigil.

The image of a younger, more smug looking seaweed-head overlaps with the soldier. The image comes with its own book, a different sigil, and a long-legged beauty with purple hair behind him. It disperses when the soldier speaks again.

"Illyasviel, right?" he raises a hand in greeting. "I'm Major Halbring Matou. State Alchemist. Grandfather was worried about you."

"Wait," she sits up a little straighter in comprehension. "You mean you're related to Zouken Matou?"

"Yeah. He claims he was friends with an Einzbern a long time ago, so he pulled some strings to make sure I could check up on you."

Illya pouts heavily. Zouken was supposed to be at the auction. He wasn't.

She really wants to talk with him. He's ancient. He helped Justeaze set up the Holy Grail War. The 'old family friend' might be able to help uncover what happened to her.

"I need to have a long talk with him."

"Pff. Don't count on it happening anytime soon," Halbring shakes his head helplessly. "Grandfather got an apprentice recently. Apparently she's so well suited to the Matou magecraft that he adopted her."

"Magecraft," Illya mutters as if awestruck, "You said magecraft."

"Uh, what's with that smile?" Matou points.

She brings a hand up to her lips to find a wobbly smile has formed on her face. She promptly turns it into a scowl. At least, she tries. It ends up an adorable pout.

"Where's Chloe? And how long have I been out?" Illya changes the subject.

"Three days. Chloe being kept unconscious in the next room," Matou nods his head towards the wall.

"Kept unconscious?" Illya repeats dangerously, the look in her eyes promising murder if she doesn't like what she hears.

"While tending to your wounds, the doctors found out that you both regenerate," Halbring replies, not affected by her glare at all. "Really, what the heck are you doing? First you get outed as a magus, and then as homunculi? Are you trying to get killed?"

"W-what are you talking about?" Illya sputters, "The homunculus thing may be true, but when did I get outed as magus? No- more importantly, I need to see Chloe."

Chloe normally needs to be charged once every two or three days. With her Berserker Switch flipped and the amount of regeneration needed for her wounds, it wouldn't be strange for her to die in the night. If it's been three days, then there's no time to waste. It's a miracle she's lasted this long.

"She's /fine/," seaweed head rolls his eyes. "I figured out she's a Frankenstein and charged her while no one was looking."

Illya's face goes red. She sputters as she tries to gather her thoughts enough to form words. Matou ignores it in favor of explaining Chloe's condition.

"Her power consumption's high for some reason, so I had to sneak in and give her a little booster when no one was around to hear. Not enough for her to wake up, of course, but-"

"You... you PERVERT!" she declares, face tomato-like from a strange mixture of embarrassment and rage. Never mind the fact that the man saved her sister or that he's her first real connection to the Moonlit World in this country. That he would dare touch her sister like that is deserving of death!

"Wait, what?!" he cries in shock, even as he dodges the small blasts of air being sent his way.

"Lolicon! Pedophile! Cradle Robber!"

"What the hell?! How do jumper cables and a portable generator make me /any/ of those things?!"

Illya stops tossing balls of wind at him with that explanation. The redness of her face loses its rage and becomes all embarrassment. She lays back down and rubs her arms slowly. They hurt a lot after moving so much, but it's bearable. Pushing through to get her memories is more painful.

"... how did I get outed as a magus?" Illya changes the subject to avoid admitting she was wrong.

"Hey, don't change the subject! Apologize!"

"By the way, what happened to Temperance?" Illya continues pretending the previous exchange never happened.

"Huh? Oh, she's dead," seaweed face stops demanding an apology, possibly because this is an important manner.

His delivery doesn't make it seem that important, though.

"Dead, huh? I see," Illya nods, white hair bouncing in the sun. Then she raises her voice in disbelief. "Dead?! How is she dead?! She was super strong, even though she looked ridiculous! Did you see her outfit? It looked like a traffic light!"

If Chloe were awake, she might have something to say about ridiculous outfits.

"The Fuhrer killed her because he's stronger," Halbring shrugs. "Don't know if it helps, but whatever you did to deactivate her armor was the turning point. She's gotten away with killing a lot of people because of the armor."

"... Wait, isn't she part of a secret society? How did you know who I was talking about?"

"Same way we knew you were a magus. Of course, only other magi would call you that. To everyone else, you're a remnant of Salsburg."

"Remnant of Salsburg..." she repeats slowly, as if tasting it. "Temperance said something about that too."

Halbring only nods.

"Yeah, I don't doubt it. The transforming belt-armor is a remnant of Salsburg. Pretty much everything that survived from that country is has ridiculous or powerful functions. Since most of them are made with 'lost alchemic techniques' that only work for magi, all magi have been grouped with them as 'remnants of Salsburg.' So, good going. Someone saw your magic circuits after blasting the armor off. Now you're one of the most coveted objects in the world."

Something about that strikes a chord in Illya. Something dark, sad, angry, and painful. She doesn't like it.

"I'm a person, not a _thing_ ," she spits venomously.

"Pff. Good luck convincing people already in the know," he waves his hand dismissively. "Anyway, the runner just woke up your caretakers. Royce will be here to pick you guys up soon. You'll be under house arrest with them until you become a State Alchemist."

Illya narrows her eyes.

"What if I don't want to become a State Alchemist?" she asks.

"Then you get executed for breaking the taboo of human transmutation," Matou shrugs. "There's an entire division that exists for hunting down the practitioners, products, and research of human transmutation. No matter how powerful you are, you don't know how to fight and you can't flee the country without giving up on that redhead boy. You'll either join us or die."

"Assuming that's true," Illya frowns, "how do know that he's in Amestris?"

"Caleb Shark," he replies through a yawn of his own. "He got killed recently. We found that out during the mass raid of the human trafficking ring. We think it was to cover up the tracks of whoever sent him false information, but there's no clues about who that might be."

"That doesn't mean anything. Photographs can be altered with alchemy," the red-eyed girl presses for answers.

"All alchemy leaves traces of Mystery, even the non-mystic kind," Halbring explains patiently, as if speaking to a child. "The magi hiding in Investigations didn't find any, so the photo is the real deal."

"I thought divination spells didn't work?" she quirks a brow.

"They don't," he confirms, "but neither do counter-divination spells. Hiding the Mystery of alchemy isn't possible."

Halbring Matou sighs and looks out the window wistfully.

"At least, not since the Fall of Salsburg, the event that ended of Age of Magic."

A stone drops in Illya's stomach. Her mouth turns dry as she tries to swallow. Her breathing almost turns erratic, but she forces it to be even.

"When was that?" she asks. "The Age of Fairies ended in the late twelfth century, and it's only been seven hundred years since then. To have another changing of the Age so soon..."

"What are you talking about?" he looks at her, brows furrowed in confusion. "I've been thinking that your knowledge is weird in some places, but this is pretty extreme. The Fall of Salsburg is common knowledge among magi. Did your brain get scrambled in the fight?"

Illya hesitates, then settles for a throaty, "I don't know."

"Look," he runs a hand through his hair and huffs, "It goes Age of the Gods, Age of Magic, Age of Alchemy. The Age of the Gods ended at the beginning of the current calendar with the death of Leto. The Age of Magic ended at the end of the twelfth century with the Fall of Salsburg. Now it's the Age of Alchemy."

Seaweed face looks at the door, as if seeing something in the distance. He then turns back to Illya and shakes his head.

"We're out of time. We'll have to talk more once you become a State Alchemist."

"But-!"

"No, it'll have to wait," he cuts of her protests, then nods at the door. "Listen."

She does. The sound of footsteps echo down the halls. Illya bites back her questions. Whoever is interrupting better be important.

The door slides open and reveals two familiar, emotional redheads.

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern," Seraphy grinds out once Matou leaves the room. "You are in _big trouble_ young lady."

"Yeah! Big trouble!" Corniche repeats, her face an adorable attempt to copy her brother's stern visage.

"Not only did you leave the house without telling anyone where you're going, you didn't call us when you arrived, and then you got caught and nearly sold by gansters! Why am I only finding out any of this after you've been _hospitalized_?!"

This is the cover story. All people who were a part of the raid were sworn to secrecy, and the doctors have been properly silenced. What exactly that entails wasn't explained to Illya, but she's beyond caring now.

She wants to grill the Matou family for information, but Halbring is busy and Zouken isn't around. She wants to cuddle Chloe, but Chloe's being kept in a coma with a low energy state. She wants her family and her memories back, but nothing seems to be very straightforward.

Then there's the deals she made with Greed and Lord Corpse. She might not make it to the former since she's confined to bed, and the latter might not deal with her after getting his ally killed. She's being watched at all times, too, and she hasn't recovered enough to do the delicate or powerful spellwork necessary to escape. If she got to beat them up at some point she might feel better, but that's not what happened.

No, she found out just how little she actually knows. About how to fight, about planning, and about her own Magic. How was she supposed to know that the backlash of the Third Magic results in self-detonation from Prana overflow? The Second Magic just wears out the body somehow!

Then there's the fact that she knows that about the Second Magic, but doesn't know how, when, or why she learned it. The only thing she can think of is that it was related to the Holy Grail War, but since she can only remember immediately before, immediately after, and that one scene on the hill, it's useless information. Zelretch helped set up the Holy Grail so there's some link to the Second Magic, but it's circumstantial evidence at best.

Honestly, she's fed up with everything right now.

"My apologies. There was a lead on our big brother, so we left in a hurry. Not saying anything beforehand was rude."

Despite that, Illya is a noble lady. She can endure headaches like this. Being polite and admitting when you're wrong are important traits for the aristocracy when dealing with the common folk.

Her earlier interactions with seaweed head don't count.

"You aren't reflecting at all!" Seraphy lectures harshly, perhaps noticing how distant she's being.

"Do you know," he growls, jaw tight and shoulders shaking, "Do you know how _worried_ Dr. Marcoh was for you two? He got sent home from work because he was distracted by his concern for your well being. This is during an important project that absolutely requires his expertise."

Illya blinks in surprise. She hadn't known that. The kind old man doesn't talk about work at home. Besides, the Einzbern girls only lived with Marcoh for a month. That's plenty of time to bond, but it seems there's more care than expected.

"The man has been treating you two like his own children," Seraphy continues, "and this is how you repay him? By making his worries about you getting _lost_ and _hurt_ come to life?"

Illya's always known they would leave and was pretty much just using the alchemist doctors, so she's not too torn up about it. However, that doesn't stop the twinge of guilt she feels from Seraphy's lecture. If Marcoh's come to care that much...

Does that make him family?

She doesn't know. She likes the old man and appreciates what he's done for them until now. That doesn't mean she sees him as a father figure, though. Not like Seraphy so clearly does.

Still, her brother is adopted. Maybe... maybe if she likes Marcoh enough, she could adopt him too? She'll have to consult Chloe to make sure she isn't against it, and she'll have to give Marcoh a longer trial period.

Then there's the black-haired man she assumes is her biological father. She still can't remember anything but his face. Not even the feeling of warmth that comes from knowing the other Justeaze model is her mother.

It's all very confusing, and Illya doesn't want to think about it right now.

"Chloe is in a coma, and there's no guarantee she'll wake up. Do you know what that knowledge will _do_ to Marcoh?" Seraphy's voice takes on a desperate, pleading tone.

Corniche has stopped trying to imitate her brother. Though she's only five and doesn't really understand the weight of worry, she can tell this is more serious than she thought. Seraphy is mad. Mad and scared. Moreso than she's ever seen.

"If it makes you feel any better," Illya tries to lighten the mood, "the military recognized my talent and have placed me under armed escort until I become a State Alchemist so the gangsters don't try to get revenge."

"It doesn't!" the orange haired man replies sharply. He then sighs in defeat and cups his face in his hands. "It... really doesn't."

Which he finds a little odd. The reminder that Major Matou and one other soldier are stationed right outside the door to protect Illya should make him feel better. Something about it makes him uneasy, though.

"Um... Well, I know the cause of Chloe's condition and how to fix it, so don't worry," the snowy haired girl tries to console the doctor. "It's something she was born with."

"What kind of birth defect sends children into _comas_?" Seraphy asks, horrified.

It's a bit of a cruel explanation, but telling him that Chloe is being kept unconscious with a low energy state is a big no-no.

"At least she wasn't born with a terminal disease like me!" Illya laughs it off with false cheer. A terminal disease is the best way to explain her shortened lifespan, and it isn't like she didn't fix it. Though, maybe she'll withhold that information for a few years.

The man doesn't see through her falsehoods. As a result, his mood only drops further. His stress levels are already high and this last bit of information doesn't help at all.

"Hey Seraphy? What's 'terminal' mean?" Corniche follows up innocently.

"I'll explain later," Seraphy rubs his eyes to try and relieve some stress. "Chloe needs treatment. What is it?"

"That's a secret of the Einzbern family alchemy," Illya replies with surprising seriousness. "I believe I can trust you, but you have to know that the punishment for divulging our secrets is death."

Having heard these words from her before, Seraphy isn't terribly shocked. However, all the times before Illya would laugh or smile. It could be written off as a joke.

Not this time.

"Not just for yourself," she continues, "but for everyone close to you. Your friends, your colleagues, your family... everyone. Right down to your pet cat."

The way her eyes linger on Corniche before returning to the stressed adult do not promise nice things.

"Do you still want to know?"

Seraphy wavers. He wants to help, but he also doesn't want to put his family in danger. Not just the blood related Corniche, but also his father figure Marcoh and his Uncle McDougal.

"I do!" Corniche raises her hand.

"You're too young. Try again when you're ten," Illya refutes immediately.

Seraphy sighs again. He pats his little sister's head and tries to think about things calmly. Even if Illya is being serious about killing everyone he knows down to his pet cat, could she? Even if the Einzbern alchemy grants super strength to maids-

No, wait. There's an inconsistency. Illya never refered to Maid Power as alchemy before. She called them arts, or crafts. Never alchemy.

It could be that she just recognized her family's techniques as alchemy, but it could also be that she knew from the beginning. If the latter is true, then that would mean she's trying to hide the fact that Maid Power is alchemy. If the Maid Power is alchemy and it can grant a living human super strength, then could it be human transmutation?

Her seriousness in keeping secrets would make far more sense if that's the case. So would the military's interest in her, and the armed escort. She never showed an inclination to become a State Alchemist before now, either. Is Illya being coerced?

Additionally, if human transmutation is involved in Chloe's super strength, then could it also be related to her coma? Assuming that's true, does that mean the Einzberns perform human transmutation on their children before they're even born? If it's a condition she was born with-

Illya was also born with a defect. One she claims is terminal. She's the older sister. Did something go wrong, or is she the prototype?

She's looking into alchemy to see if it's compatible with Maid Power. Does that mean she's looking for a cure? Does she have the entirety of the Einzbern alchemy, or is that she's missing some and trying to fill in the gaps?

Is that why she's looking for her family? For a cure? Or maybe...

Revenge?

"... No, I don't think I want to know," he eventually shakes his head.

Seraphy's genius brain whirs with activity, suspicion, and heavy thoughts. However, he lacks sufficient hard evidence to come to a real conclusion. As a scientist and as an alchemist, he wants answers. Even so, it would be boorish of him to ask right now.

Especially if he doesn't want to cause a scene in the hospital. If he said yes, Corniche would try to find out too. It's better to ask more later when he and Illya are alone.

After all, she said she believes she can trust him, right? That has to mean _something_.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is sitting in a wheelchair, her legs still shot from the damage she did to herself. It's definitely strange since most of the magic circuits she hurt herself with are in the upper body. It might have something to do with how wraiths tend not to have feet, but it isn't something she'll know without more testing.

In any case, the child-like woman is being wheeled into Chloe's room by Halbring. She has a decent impression of him. He's nicer than expected for a magus.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he complains in a quiet tone. "What would you have done if I didn't send my subordinate to guard the car from meddlers?"

"You're too kind, Matou," Illya giggles. "You know you didn't have to do that. Your identity is still safe, after all."

"Are you freaking kidding?" he deadpans. "I told you grandfather pulled some strings to get me here. If my subordinate heard more than he did, or if Royce said yes, I'd have had to do something to stop the conversation. That'd be weird since I'm supposed to be gathering intel on you. The higher ups would connect it back to my grandfather's puppeteering and then the whole Matou line would be suspect."

"That's true!" Illya only giggles some more at his troubles. "Let's not forget how the morning nurses weren't around at all for some reason."

Matou only groans.

"I'm not going to be around at all after today, you know? Don't bring trouble for the rest of us."

"Then will you answer some questions of mine?" she asks sweetly.

"No," he refuses. "Wake up your sister and go back to Central. I've got work to do."

"Fine," she pouts. The cheerful act was getting old anyway. She wants to get of here as well.

Wheeled next to her tanned doppelganger, Illya watches Chloe sleep. As always, her little sister is cute. It may be a little narcissistic since they have the same face, but Illya is sure that Chloe is the cutest.

Illya leans her face over Chloe's. There's some difficulty due to the wheelchair, but she doesn't let it get in her way. Charging Chloe is her wonderful duty as the elder sister!

As per usual, her heart starts beating faster. Her face is flush. Her lips quiver in anticipation.

Illya's soft, silky hair falls in the way as she continues her descent, prompting her to tuck it behind her ear. Her breath mingles with the unconscious girl below her. Her eyes become half-lidded with a tender emotion that doesn't quite have a name.

Their lips touch in a chaste kiss, the morning sun falling on them as if to frame angels.

Matou blushes, not expecting this at all. Illya is surprisingly seductive for someone with a ten year old body. He pinches himself to avoid awakening any strange preferences.

Then the room fills with the smell of lightning. The humming of electricity buzzes softly in his ears. Identical glowing red circuits appear on the homunculus girls.

Bolts of static flow over Chloe's form like a wave. They start from her lips and ride her skin down to her toes, where they bounce back up and fly to the top her head as a circular pulse just centimeters from touching her. The pulse touches Illya as it passes, but flows across her pale flesh without pause or loss of energy.

This repeats three times. Each time Chloe moans in a terribly suggestive manner. Each time she moans louder, euphoria mounting in her small body.

Then Illya breaks the kiss, leaving Chloe's lips with only ragged panting. The maid's eyes flutter open, immediately searching out and locking onto the red gems of her sister. They both smile, joyous and gentle as the red circuits fade.

"What the hell was that?" Halbring can't help ruining the moment. Curiosity aside, he feels like if he let that scene go on any longer he might enter a strange world he can't escape from. One where he would eat, sleep, and breathe a substance not meant for human consumption. It would surely get him arrested.

Illya falls back into her wheelchair and puffs up her cheeks, irritated that he interrupted the touching moment of reunion. It was a scene from a fairy tale, too. The knight princess waking up the sleeping beauty with a kiss of sisterly love-!

"Do you really want to know?" she pale skinned girl asks with an obviously fake smile. "If I tell you, you'll have to answer a question of mine in return."

"... Sure," he replies. "But if you answer 'Maid Power' I'm never talking to you again."

He feels that if he doesn't get a rational explanation for what just happened, he might go mad. Illya, on the other hand, pouts. She was totally going to wave it off as Maid Power.

"Chloe has a Specialized digestive system which I altered to absorb Prana. It helps with her energy costs."

"That's bullshit," Matou complains. "Where did you come across Specialized system designs in the first place?"

"In the-"

"Never mind. Don't answer that," he interrupts, thinking better of it.

"Fine," Illya pouts some more. "Now it's my turn. Where and when should I turn up in order to speak more with other magi?"

"Ah, damn it. I walked into that one," Halbring runs his fingers through his hair. "Okay, there's a mansion half a day's walk to the south of North City. If you show up with a State Alchemist's watch and channel some Prana, they'll let you in."

"Wait, are all the magi in this country State Alchemists?" her eyes widen.

"No more questions!" Matou denies, grabbing the handles of her wheelchair to take her to the foyer.

Well, he would if Chloe didn't slap his hands away and grab the handles herself.

"I'm pushing Onee-san!" she glares cutely at the man.

The Seaweed head sighs and waves toward the door with exasperation. Chloe huffs, raises her nose and pushes with all the dignity she can while wearing hospital clothes. Illya giggles, refreshed by getting her daily dose of Vitamin Chloe.

Matou follows them, giving the girls directions to the foyer. The Royce siblings are eager to see them. A reunion much more pleasant than the one in the hospital room occurs.

"Chloe! You're okay!" Corniche gives the maid sister a flying hug.

"It's because I'm a maid!" the tanned girl proudly explains.

"I'm gonna be a doctor!" the red haired child volunteers information that no one asked for, her feet dangling from the ground.

"Ah!" Chloe's eyes open as she suddenly realizes something. She turns to her sister, five year old still attached to her body. "Onee-san! I need a new uniform!"

"Mm," Illya nods sagely. "That's true. A maid isn't a maid without a maid uniform."

Seeing Chloe get what she wants, Corniche immediately turns her puppy dog eyes to her brother.

"Seraphy! I need a new skeleton for my closet!"

"No," he shoots her down without hesitation.

"But why?! Chloe's getting a new uniform!"

"Because Chloe works for it, that's why. You still haven't finished weeding the garden."

"But I don't like the garden!" she whines.

"Seraphy," Illya interrupts, "I have to ask you for a favor."

"We'll talk about this when we get home," the man gently scolds his sister. "For now, why don't you tell Chloe about the new card game you learned for Bethany?"

"Yeah, tell me!" Chloe helps distract the other younger sister.

Once the two are chatting happily, Seraphy turns to Illya with a calm expression.

"What kind of favor?"

"I have a business meeting tonight," she explains, "as well as four days from now. Neither can be rescheduled or I might lose out to competitors."

"So you want to stay in town for the next four days?" Seraphy raises a brow. "Even though you know I have work and you were both injured."

"I'll have armed escort in case anything happens," Illya nods toward Matou and his subordinate.

"I won't be there," Halbring is quick to say, "but two soldiers will be working as her bodyguards at all times."

Seraphy narrows suspicious eyes at the petite homunculus.

"What kind of 'business?' I wasn't aware that you were doing any."

"It's a secret," she presses a finger to her lips.

"A family secret?" he frowns.

"Yes."

Seraphy debates allowing it. Whatever happened here is likely connected to her search for her family, and therefore the Einzbern family secrets. The same secrets that led to both girls being horribly injured. It's likely to get them even more injured, maybe even killed in Illya's current condition. He's against it.

On the other hand, the girl obviously is a threat. She speaks of killing so easily, and not because she's too young to understand. Given that she's threatened to kill his family all the way down to the cat, she should be capable of defending herself. If he wants her out of his life and the threat against Corniche gone, maybe letting her go on the chance she gets herself killed would be a good idea.

Then again, hearing that Illya got killed because of Seraphy being irresponsible would destroy Marcoh, and that's not acceptable.

"Fine, but only if I come with you too," he finally decides, compromising.

"What about Corniche?" Illya frowns. "Leaving her by herself is..."

"She'll be fine," he shakes his head, "I have a new book on cellular biology for her to read, so she'll keep herself entertained until we get back. It'll only be an hour or two at most, right?"

"It should," Illya nods, "but even if it runs over it'll be four at most."

"If you guys are done?" Matou interjects, "I need you to go with Sargent Perril and Lieutenant Vashbern so I can clock out and get some real sleep."

"Right, sorry sir," Seraphy apologizes.

"I only see one," Illya points at Halbring's subordinate. "Which one is that?"

"He's not a 'that,'" seaweed face reprimands her, "That's Sargent Perril. Vashbern is out by the car."

"Oh. Okay."

With that Halbring manages to force the group from the hospital foyer and into the car. Seraphy is still a little apprehensive about the two soldiers escorting them, but pushes it down in favor of helping pack the wheelchair in the trunk. Corniche and Chloe help Illya get comfortable, and then they're off to the hotel.

However, as Illya is watching Matou wave goodbye through the mirror she realizes he never actually answered her question about Temperance.

How did he know who Temperance was, and what does knowing she's a magus have to do with knowing that Flamel-branded warrior?

Illya's frustrated scream echoes down the street and into the morning sun.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 10**


	17. Ch014 - Heaven's Feel 10

**A/N: I have to admit, I actually prefer faves and follows to reviews. They're a better indicator of how much people like what I'm putting out. You can typically tell how good something is if they have a lot of both, and their faves are close to their follows. Plus, reading reviews is scary. I appreciate feedback, but don't most people get nervous when reading reviews about their own work? I'm pretty sure I'm normal in that aspect.**

 **I've thought on Ch008b some more, and I've thought of ways to write it better. Really, I shouldn't have tried to write it in less than ten days... the quality really suffered. I'm going to go back revise it one of these days...**

 **a crashclown [Ch013, 9/8/2017]: She didn't actually bring the grail with her. That was a half-truth based on the technicality that she /is/ the (lesser) grail. As for summonings... I'll explain later. =3**

 **shelwyn [Ch013, 9/10/2017]: Hm... I'll look over it again to see how I can improve in the future.  
** **Oh my~! I'm flattered, but I hardly even know you. I won't consider it unless we date for at least a year first. More importantly, who would wear the wedding dress? You? Me? Both? Neither? ;D**

* * *

 **Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch 014**

 **Heaven's Feel 10**

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is wheeled into the warehouse by a motivated Chloe. Stars seem to shine in the tanned maid's eyes as she keeps vigilant watch. This is all tied to her current state of dress.

She is wearing a cute yellow sundress, decorated with images of white flowers. A straw hat sits upon her snowy locks, and perfectly fit sandals are tied to her feet. It all compliments the girl nicely, drawing out her natural charm, as well as a feeling of youth and summer.

In other words, she's not in a maid uniform.

This is only natural as it was blown up along with its wearer. It was a very distressing revelation for the four month old Frankenstein. Not only was it the first uniform she ever recieved, but it was made personally by her older sister! Illya even worked enchantment after enchantment into it, making it a mystic code with many useful functions!

However, her beloved older sister has promised to make her a new one. Not only that, but a full set just in case it gets blown up again! All she has to do is wear something else for a few days while Illya recovers.

Oh, and hypnotize three adult men into believing they're at a legitimate business meeting.

While Chloe is uncomfortable hypnotising people and wearing something with so few frills, it is a small price to pay.

After all, a maid isn't a maid without a maid uniform.

Pretending to be oblivious to her sibling's expectations and completely ignoring the human rights of Seraphy and her two escorts, Illya scans the area again. Not merely with her eyes, but with her Zelle as well. She must be wary of the mundane spying on something they shouldn't.

Matou made it quite clear that the magi are keeping tabs on her. Whether it was intentional is unclear, but ultimately not important. They won't be interfering here.

He claimed that 'they' knew Illya was a magus for the same reason they knew who Temperance was. He then went on to talk about the Remnants of Salsburg. While it is important information and tangentially related, it has nothing to do with how 'they' knew either of those things.

After all, he could have just said he knew who Illya was talking about from context clues. She was found in a room with only three people, after all. He had confirmed he knew who she and Chloe were by that point, so to anyone unfamiliar Temperance must have been the third one.

It couldn't be that they knew both of them were 'Remnants of Salsburg' either. Though the 'Henshin belt' thing seems to be a genuine article, not once did Illya sense Prana from Temperance. Either the belt has a Prana concealing function, or it doesn't need it. Regardless, saying that they sensed two people's Prana is impossible.

Even if Chloe is added to the equation, it's still impossible. Chloe doesn't have Prana. She runs on Galvanic Energy. Matou can't play dumb about that either since he charged her.

The only other way they could have known that would apply to both Illya and Temperance is that the magi had already been monitoring them. It's the only thing that makes sense. Matou already demonstrated that he could keep tabs on his soldiers despite not even being on the same floor as them. Whether it's through familiars or some relic of a previous Age, it's proven possible to do it without others knowing.

Back to the point, the magi are monitoring her. There are magi in the military. Since they clearly already knew about her and they didn't report her, it's fairly clear that the magi don't really care about her breaking the taboo of human transmutation.

Like that, her worries about magi getting in the way tonight have vanished. She can try to strike a deal with Greed without their intervention. They might try to steal from her or Greed afterwards, but there's no way to hide the accompanying surge of Prana from that.

That in mind, the only ones to be concerned with now are the mundanes. She's not finding any in the area, but that could change. She keeps up her monitoring just in case.

Soon some hoodlum goons come into view. Illya saw them from her Zelle and is not surprised. She can feel the mass of souls that Greed carries further inside the warehouse, so she tries to continue onwards.

"Huh? Who the hell're you supposed to be?" one of the goons steps foward to block her. "I'm always up for a street walkin' lady, but I ain't into kids."

He looks her over, evaluating her. Then he licks his lips, likely thinking something lewd.

"Hey, why don't you call your mama over? I'll show her a real good time, if you know what I mean."

The other goons follow his lead, snickering and jeering.

Illya responds by calmly clapping a steel plate between her hands and releasing a Degen Shotflinte. The glowing latice swords calmly pierce the ground surrounding him, separating him from his buddies and his bladder control. Illya, quite calmly, decides to inform him who he's messing with.

"I am Illyasviel von Einzbern, Master of Northern Alchemy and wielder of the Heaven's Feel. I am the head of the Einzbern family, Arbitrator's boss, and _your executioner_ if you say _one more word_ about my mother."

No one speaks. No one dares move. Illya narrows her crimson eyes.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"C-crystal!" the goon nods, cowed into submission by the Magician in the wheelchair.

"Good!" she smiles, looking for all the world like a child halfway through their ice cream and not the murderous magus she is. "Now, be a good boy and take me to Greed."

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern sees Greed and his cronies. The haunt holder is still wearing sunglasses indoors. The lighting is kind of bad, so Illya is a little concerned that the man's eyesight will deteriorate.

It'd be bad if a trading partner was assassinated because they couldn't see properly.

"Huh? A kid in a wheelchair?" Greed frowns.

Illya suppresses a shudder. This guy is a haunt holder, and all alchemy carries Mystery. With the amount of souls he has, killing her might be possible.

It's frightening. She doesn't want another fight like the one with Temperance. Being so outclassed has played havoc with her self-confidence.

However, she has a younger sister. She needs to at least look strong.

The need for more information on the haunt holders is also pressing. The haunt holders can transmute souls somehow. They are obviously a group that is 'in the know.' If they haven't heard about her being a Remnant of Salsburg, they will soon.

For Chloe's safety, this meeting can't be avoided.

"I'm Arbitrator's boss, Illyasviel von Einzbern," she replies smoothly, flipping her well kept hair over her shoulder. "I'm here to see your proof. If I like what I see, we can talk about immortality."

"And the three guys behind you?" he nods at Seraphy and her escort. "They don't look like they're all there."

"That's because I had a good hypnotist mess with their perception of what's going on around them," Illya explains. "If they say something, ignore them. They think they're escorting me to a less shady business meeting."

"Hypnotism, huh? Sounds useful," Greed strokes his chin with a smirk on his face.

"It is," Illya agrees. "Now, about that proof...?"

"Whoa, hold up," the gang boss holds up a hand to stop her. "I made a deal with Arbitrator, and I still don't know if you are who you say you are. It think it's only fair that _you_ give _me_ some proof."

Illya pouts cutely. Her eyes scan Greed's low class gangsters. It only takes two seconds to find what she's looking for.

"You there, with the gun," she calls the crook out. "Shoot me in the face."

"Uh... what?"

"Yeah, what?" Chloe repeats, not exactly keen on letting Illya get herself shot.

"You heard me," the magus continues, "I said shoot me in the face."

"... I don't kill kids," the goon replies.

"Onee-san," Chloe whispers, "I don't like it."

"It'll be fine," Illya consoles her little sister just as quietly. "It's a normal gun, and bullets aren't made with alchemy. It's not an effective use of human resources."

If Greed hears what the girls say, he makes no indication of it. He only thinks for a moment, nods, then waves a hand forward. "Joey, give her what she asked for. If she's anything like Arbitrator, there won't be anything to worry about."

"What if she's not, though?" Goon J frets.

A loud gunshot rings out. The bullet strikes Illya right between the eyes. The hole doesn't bleed, and the offending projectile slowly gets pushed out.

Before it hits her lap, everyone's eyes are on the shooter.

"... What?" he freezes in the middle of holstering his pistol. "Boss said shoot 'er, and Joey wasn't doin' it."

"You're fine Ben," Greed grins. "You did good."

"That's right," Illya smiles politely and places her crossed hands on her lap. "Now that that's out of the way, I'm here to see proof of your claims."

The haunt holder sees the girl's eyes light up from across the room despite the poor lighting. It's part childish curiousity, part scientific inquiry, and /all/ calculating desire. It makes him smile.

He doesn't mind eyes like those.

"Show me."

Greed proceeds to take off his shirt.

Illya is initial perplexed by this behavior, but it makes a lot more sense once Greed's hands blacken into claws and he /rips his own chest open./

Inside, connected to his bloody innnards, is a lusterous red stone. With just a glance, Illya can tell that that's where the tens of thousands of souls are being kept. It's obvious at this point that the stone holding the haunt is what he claims to be the legendary Crimson Elixir.

"So that's a Philospher's Stone," Illya hums, hiding her disappointment. "That would make you a homunculus."

If what he said at the auction is true, then anyone with the Ouroboros tattoo might also be one.

"That's right," he says with his near perpetual grin. His hands fall to his sides, and his flesh reknits itself in only a few seconds. Red lightning crackles across the wound as it closes.

"Well then, I suppose I should confirm it. I /can/ make a person nigh immortal. I have no idea if it'll work on you until I know more about how you're put together, though," Illya shrugs.

"About your immortality," Greed raises a finger, "you're in a wheelchair. You said 'nigh' immortal. How reliable could it really be?"

"I took considerable damage to my soul recently due to a Remnant of Salsburg. Recovering this much in less than a week is miraculous. I can guarantee that anyone else would have died," Illya stretches the truth so she doesn't have to properly explain.

"Huh," Greed blinks. After a moment of thought, he shrugs. "Works for me."

"Great," Illya smiles. "Now, we have two options. Option one: you give me the information on how to make a Philosopher's Stone and Homunculi from it now, and I make you immortal after learning how you're put together. Option two: I tell you how _I_ became immortal and promise to give you information support the next time it becomes available, then you give me the information. I warn you, option two will take around sixty years."

"Both of those make me wait on you. Why don't you just give me _your_ info for mine?" Greed frowns. "Equivalent exchange."

Illya sighs and activates a single magic circuit in her hand. She holds it up for Greed to see. A green line appears to glow slightly on her snow white skin.

"Can you feel this?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Uh, I can see it if that's what you mean," Greed quirks a brow.

"It's not. You need to be able to feel it, sense it without your eyes. If you can't, then you can't perform this miracle of alchemy. Either I do it, or you wait sixty years for the Remnant to recharge."

Greed contemplates his options. Getting immortality as soon as possible would be for the best. He has no idea when his 'family' will finally catch up to him.

Illyasviel clearly isn't as immortal as she claims. From what he's heard so far, she gained immortality from a Remnant of Salsburg. Another Remnant did damage to her soul itself, but she survived it because of the immortality the first Remnant gave her. Somehow, she's learned how to impart her immortality upon others through something he can't sense.

Then there's the issue of the girl lying. Just because he won't doesn't mean others will have the same courtesy. Illyasviel seems pretty emotive, but that doesn't mean much. Lust is a much better actor than him, and far better at picking out deceptions.

The fact of the matter is that if Illyasviel is lying, then he can't tell. However, he does know the Einzberns have a place up in Youswell. If she's lying or doesn't try, a raid might be in order.

"How about this? You give me both, just in case you aren't as immortal as you make yourself out to be," Greed proposes. "If you're interacting with Remnants regularly, someone's eventually going to find out. You'll be a target. Someone, or something, might get lucky."

Illya frowns, but Greed continues before she can say no.

"Besides, I'm offering you two things: the Philospher's Stone and the way to make a homunculus with it. It's only fair you give me two as well."

"Fine then. You give me the information on the Stone, then I'll give you the information on the Remnant that grants immortality," Illya moves on as she turns off her circuit, unable to make an objection to his reasonable argument. "You can give me the homunculus creation research after I've verified the information you've given me isn't a hoax."

"Wow, you're pretty distrustful aren't you?" Greed teases. "But now that we're two for two, what do I get if you can't deliver on making me immortal with your own hands?"

"You like money right? How does a billion cenz sound?" Illya responds flippantly.

"It sounds like we have a deal," Greed motions one of his goons forward. The minions part to let one of their own through. The tall, burly man that appears aproaches Illya with a metal suitcase in hand.

The man kneels when he reaches her, bringing the suitcase level with her chest. He pops it open to reveal a handbound book. The writing is as elegant as any noble magi's.

Illya picks it up and reads the contents. She takes her time, making sure it isn't filled with bogus formulas and theory. Greed waits patiently for the half hour she takes to absorb the text.

"Okay," Illya shuts the book and places it on her lap. "I became immortal by using the Holy Grail, a wish granting device of significant power. Every sixty years, it will spread seven of its pieces across the globe. Those who end up with one must bring those pieces together before the Holy Grail to get their wish granted. There's only one wish, so naturally no one wants to cooperate. Thus, you must win the Holy Grail War."

"That certainly sounds like one of those ridiculus Remnants," Greed rubs his neck, "Where's the Holy Grail? And why haven't I heard of it before?"

"It moves after each War. It draws upon the leylines of the land, so it needs to move every so often to avoid damaging them permanently. Until now, all the Holy Grail Wars have taken place on a small island country to the far east."

Illya holds back a frown. She also holds back a smile. She hadn't expected that question, but it revealed something about herself she hadn't know before.

The Holy Grail War that she and her brother were in took place in the far east.

That also makes her frown, because she's looked at the map. She's in the west. Her brother is also in this country.

Why the hell are they so far west? Her brother's facial features are closer to that twin-tailed girl from the hill and church memory than westerners. Despite that, he has red hair. Where is he from? Where was he going? Why have they been separated?

There are still too many questions without answers. That isn't even including the stuff Matou dropped on her. The inconsistency between Ages is the biggest one, but another major issue is why she hadn't been abducted for materials while asleep. Surely a regenerating homunculus would be valuable for research, let alone two of them! Matou must have been able to tell how much Prana she has as well. Illya should have been slapped with a sealing designation so fast that she suffered cardiovascular shock.

"So that pillar of light a few months ago was you winning the War?" Greed interrupts her thoughts.

"No, I won the war in the east," Illya replies, "That was me claiming my prize."

"What do the seven pieces look like?"

"Since you can't sense _that_ , you can't actually see the pieces. Sigils will appear on the back of your left hand if you have one. Good luck finding one before anyone else."

"What did previous winners wish for?"

"Not immortality," Illya grins with some amusement, hinting that all previous winners are dead.

This of course, is a cover for the fact that the Holy Grail War has only been won once before. The one who won was-

Illya's mind lights up with pain. She can't see. Still, she knows this sensation.

A door is open.

Knowing her original path wouldn't work, she immediately tries another. Her knowledge isn't as complete this time, so she knows guesswork will be required. Still, her determination is strong. She'll mine out her memories one at a time if need be.

The Master who won summoned Saber, using a catalyst provided by- PAIN.

"Hey, you okay?"

The catalyst used to summon Saber was... a Noble Phantasm? Yes. A Noble Phantasm. A powerful one from the Age of... Magic-

No! No, that's wrong. Illya teeters back from the edge of the path.

"Wait! Stay back! Onee-san is busy!"

The Noble Phantasm is from the Age of Faeries. Yes. It was- PAIN.

The catalyst was obtained... during the Age of Faeries? Yes, it was obtained back then, and only a few families have such a long history. The Einzberns were one such family, and they are guaranteed a spot in the Holy Grail War.

"What's going on?"

Suffering defeat after defeat, they hired a mercenary to fight in the Fourth War. That man was-

Illya's eyes open wide, but she doesn't see the poorly lit warehouse. She's surrounded by a snow and barren trees. She's small, and the black haired man trails behind her in a black winter coat. They're playing a game, seeing who can spot the most walnut buds.

Her ears don't hear the commotion around her. Only the calm baritone of the black-clad man. He found today's first walnut bud.

"Stay back! Onee-san needs to concentrate!"

Illya is filled in childish competitiveness. She declares that she won't be losing today. Rushing ahead, she finds one after looking this way and that.

She hears him find another and comes to check. She watches his gentle smile as he explains how he's been counting wingnut buds as well. Illya can't help getting mad at him- at Kiritsugu for cheating.

"Okay, okay! Geez. I better get an explanation for this."

Illya is immersed in the memory, but she doesn't fail to burn the man into her mind. The way he moves, the way he smiles, the way his name sounds on her lips, the way he looks at her with those tired eyes that hold so much _love_. She doesn't want to forget it, not again.

Then she hears him call himself 'daddy,' and something in her _knows_ it's true.

"If Onee-san decides you need to know, then you'll know!"

She gets raised onto her father's shoulders when the memory's intensity starts to fade. Illya doesn't want it to end. She tries to hold onto it, to hold onto the warm of her father's touch, but it slips through her fingers. It only takes seconds for it to fall away and settle in her mind as a normal memory, less vivid than it was only moments before.

She still feels cold all over. At the same time, the lingering warmth fills her. It's bittersweet.

After all, there's a good chance she'll never see him outside of a memory.

"Hey, she's crying," Greed's voice finally filters back in. Seraphy is growling out something about unjust discrimination and vouching for Illya's character, but he goes ignored.

Realizing that there are indeed hot tears on her cheeks, Illya wipes her face. She takes a moment and a deep breath, then sets back to the task of getting what she came for.

"I'm fine," Illya lies, not convincing anyone. "It's just the lingering damage from the Remnant."

"... Uh-huh," Greed nods. He saw Illya's face. If that's the lingering damage she took to her soul, he's going to have to be more careful around his 'special goods.' "You gonna finish explaining the Holy Grail War?"

"What's to explain?" Illya sniffs, "You find the other guys with sigils on their left hand, kill them, and show up at the Holy Grail to get your wish."

"See, that doesn't tell me how to find the Grail once I'm done."

"Follow the leylines to where they're being drained," Illya replies with exasperation, as if it's obvious.

"Can I do that without sensing the thing you say I can't sense?" Greed shakes his head.

Illya shrugs, forced to concede his point.

"No idea. If I find something I'll let you know, but otherwise you're on your own."

"Hey, you said you'd provide support," Greed objects.

"I said I'd provide information support, and only once it became usable again," Illya refutes. Greed just shrugs, as if he expected that but wanted to try anyway.

Well, he has sixty years to figure something out.

Of course, Illya has no intention of actually following through on her deal in sixty years. If she can materialize his soul then she'll make sure to sneak in something so he can't move against her. If she can't materialize his soul, then killing him off near the deadline should be fine. After all, her father would be dead by then if he isn't already, and she should have left the country with her mother and brother.

Just thinking about her father makes her insides warm and skin cold. There's something a little ominous about it, but she ignores it. Right now she's happy to simply know his name.

"You could provide better service since you're making me wait either way," Greed complains.

"I'm already being plenty generous by telling you anything at all," Illya grumbles. "If I didn't know a good hypnotist, I would have had to kill these guys, you know? This information's pretty sensitive."

Greed narrows his eyes as he comes to an unpleasant realization.

"What are you planning on doing to my men?"

"Wipe their memories of this transaction so they can't talk, even if they get tortured," Illya admits, not seeing anything wrong with what she's saying.

More than a few of Greed's Goons shout angrily about that.

"Cool it," Greed growls demanding. They fall silent, unwilling to upset their boss.

"Now, these men are _mine_. Explain to me why you think you can get away with damaging what belongs to _me_?"

Chloe's hands tighten on the handlebars. Illya hears them creaking and realizes that her little sister is furious. The maid has endured a lot recently, and it wouldn't be strange for the maid to attack Greed on his next provocation.

Illya very carefully does not swallow her spittle. She's angered Greed, and Chloe's close to the breaking point. He, like Temperance, may have a way to kill her. On top of that, she isn't even fighting fit. If the two sides come to blows, Chloe will be fighting alone.

Not that Illya actually knows how to fight, now that she thinks about it. Knowing all the Einzbern magecraft is one thing. Using it in combat is another, especially when most of it is alchemy and therefore wholly unsuited for fighting.

Plus, sparring with Chloe probably doesn't actually help since she just brute forces everything.

In short, neither know how to fight. They just break things that make them mad. Against a skilled opponent with the speed and strength to keep up, they're at a major disadvantage.

"... Fine, I'll let them keep their memories as a service," Illya replies, not wanting to risk confrontation. "You'll owe me a favor if it ever leaks due to one of yours, though."

"Sure, sure," he waves it off. "It won't happen, so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"You better hope it doesn't," the wheelchair bound homunculus grumbles some more. "The homunculus data?"

"Jenson," Greed calls another suitcase carrying criminal forward. Once Jenson has delivered Illya the contents of his case, the Oroboros Homunculus continues to speak.

"Illyasviel, I hope your word is as good as mine is. I haven't survived this long between factions with luck. The consequenses of crossing me are pretty bad."

"Greed. You're threatening someone who is nigh immortal," Illya gives him a knowing, slightly exasperated look.

"Just a little friendly advice," he smiles darkly in return. "You're going to have plenty of enemies soon enough. No need to make any more, right?"

Illya can't refute this either. Not only because the Flamel group are likely after her now, but because she has no clue as to what else is out there. There's too much she doesn't know, and there's too many weirdos that keep cropping up.

So she doesn't bother. She checks the goods. She tells Greed how she'll signal that she has an answer for him.

She leaves, and makes sure to compliment Chloe for her self control on the way out.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is sound asleep. The soldiers that escorted them during the day have similarly gone to bed, the next two guards taking up the night shift. Aside from them, the only one awake is Seraphy.

The bad fashion doctor checks his pocket notebook by the bathroom's light, door closed so he doesn't wake anyone up. In it he's jotted his observations of the Einzbern siblings. Even if nothing important happens, he makes sure to write something every half hour.

It's obvious they're entangled with something dangerous. It's also obvious that they won't talk about it, at least in front of others. Until he can find the opportunity to question them on the matter, he's been taking notes to try and puzzle it out himself.

He doesn't have much so far, admittedly. Just the suspicions he has from the hospital, and a few about her 'business meetings.' Potential human transmutation aside, why is she trying to make business deals go through in a city where she suffered massive physical trauma? She's only ten for goodness' sake!

Seraphy's nurturing nature aside, Illyasviel has proven herself to be far more mature, and far more murderous, than others her age. There is /something/ she's trying to accomplish here, and she doesn't want to leave until it's done. He wants to believe that it's only looking for her missing family members, but she already admitted her dealings are related to her family's secrets.

He was at the meeting today, and he analyzed every action as well as he could. Illya was proposing a new type of battery to a car manufacturer, hoping to secure a contract. It didn't go as planned, however.

The car manufacturer didn't know about her age or heritage beforehand. This became a problem because he was a racist. He looked down on Illyasviel the entire time. There were some very harsh words said about her mother that even caused her to cry!

All because she has red eyes.

Truthfully, Seraphy was ready for the girl to get told off simply for being a child trying handle adult matters. It happened to him several times as he worked through medical school. He wasn't at all ready for the unreasonable hate the man had for her.

The man hasn't lost anyone in the Ishvalan Rebellion that started recently. He doesn't employ Ishvalans, and he doesn't interact with them. He has no excuse but ignorance, which is no excuse at all.

Seraphy said some embarassing things to defend her, but he doesn't regret it. Despite his caution and logical desire to be rid of her for endangering Corniche and Marcoh, his emotions won't let him be that ruthless. There's a reason he's a doctor at sixteen.

Everyone left the place feeling quite upset. Chloe even crushed the handlebars of Illyasviel's wheelchair, which he had to fix with alchemy later. It was only when they got back at the hotel that he realized something was off.

Nothing said or implied in that meeting sounded very secret. Even if they were talking in some sort of code, the only thing that might be a secret is the battery Illyasviel was proposing. Unless they were talking in some kind of code, it was a legitimate business opportunity with no shady underlayer.

Except... what could make Illyasviel cry?

She has no pride about being Ishvalan. Not once has he heard her talk about Ishvala or the like. She's never prayed, and never taken part in religious practices.

The insults about her mother are certainly a hot button for her, but crying about seems terribly out of character for her. Normally she'd smile and threaten your life in a way you can't tell if she's joking or not. Illyasviel gets angry and murderous, not sad and weepy.

She threatened to kill his entire family right in front of his little sister for goodness' sake!

Worryingly, Seraphy realizes he doesn't remember the exact wording of the insult. He remembers the context, the meaning, the keywords, and the way they made him feel. He knows his memory is far above average though, so he should remember every single word.

Words that make you angry enough to rage about the injustice of them usually don't fade so quickly.

Despite that, he can't remember the exact wording. He can recall the rest of the meeting just fine. He can quote the entire thing if need be, all except for those two minutes.

Seraphy can't help but wonder if the Einzberns did something to him.

They have secret alchemic arts that seem to fall under human transmutation. Who's to say they can't transmute memories? While the brain is hardly understood by modern medicine, he has no idea what they're capable of. Furthermore, they could be using more ancient and pseudoscientific 'arcane' methods. They could be capable of memory manipulation and not actually know how it truly works.

It would line up nicely with what they've said before about combining alchemy and Maid Power. It might explain why they keep calling Chloe's ability Maid Power in the first place. Trying to find understanding could be why Illyasviel is so interested in his medical texts as well.

This is all conjecture, however. He has no solid proof. No matter how well reasoned, without solid proof it is all worthless.

Still, he writes it all down. His experiences, his suspicions, and his worries about what might happen to his little sister and father figure. His mixed feelings of simultaneously wanting to keep close and be rid of the damaged ten year old girls who threatened the lives of his loved ones after he worried over them for three days straight.

Seraphy sighs as he puts away his notebook, and as he washes his hands of ink he prays that Illya won't wash her hands of him for digging too deep.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 11**


	18. Ch015 - Heaven's Feel 11

**A/N: Grr. Mental weakness is fatal for people doing literary work. I need to get stronger! Need to prepare a training montage! *tension gauge rises***

 **Okay, level up complete! Bring on the reviews and critism! I can take it! ... Probably!**

 **In all seriousness, sorry for the delay. Work. Mid-terms. Giant Robots.**

 **... No, really. Suidobashi Heavy Industries and Megabots Incorperated had a giant robot fight. Google it.**

 **The flow in this chapter is a little unsatisfactory, but it's been a month so I probably can't do much better than this.**

 **For those who haven't noticed yet, Seraphy and Corniche aren't OCs. They're from the GBA game "Fullmetal Alchemist: Stray Rondo."**

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 **Review Response:**

 **shelwyn [Ch014, 8/1/2017]: Oh, how gracious! X3**

 **Amatsumi [Ch014, 8/1/2017]: There's mounting evidence, but part of it is that she's in denial. Another part is that things keep happening in Dublith so she has an excuse to put it off for later.  
** **As for what she paid... We'll get around to it. =3**

 **Guest [Ch012a, 8/19/2017]: So there is. However, since there isn't anyone with true immortality, I'm counting an unaging state as a form of immortality.**

 **xbox432 [Ch005, 8/24/2017]: It was. The rest are also references, but not to anime. =3**

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Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch 015

Heaven's Feel 11

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern!" Seraphy angrily pulls the book from the girl's hands. "I've told you time and again not to read at the table during meal time!"

"Hey!" she shouts indignantly. "You can't take that! I bought it with my own money!"

"You're a ten year old," he points out. "If I don't try to do something about your poor manners then I'm not doing my job right."

"P-poor manners...?!" Illya echoes, recieving a large amount of shock for some reason. Corniche can't help giggling at the older girl's reaction.

Frankly, it helps lower his dangerous stress levels a little.

It's understandable that he's stressed, what with two children he watched over for a month disappearing in the dead of night without saying a word. His father figure, a man more kind than himself by far, was so beside himself with worry that he couldn't work. The next thing he or anyone knows, there's a call from military officers in Dublith saying they've been hospitalized!

He had to call up his workplace to arrange time off, pack clothes and entertainment for Corniche so she won't misbehave, prepare funds for hospital fees and lodging... the list goes on.

Then when he arrives, he finds out that the elder sister has been effectively drafted into the State Alchemist program. There are armed escorts guarding her around the clock, and even though it should put him at ease it only makes him more troubled. That isn't even accounting for the 'birth defects' both girls suffer from!

That's not enough, of course. There's more, as if everything else wasn't stressful enough. Not only does he find out that the Einzberns are hiding secret alchemic arts they're willing to kill entire families to keep hidden, but Illya gives such a death threat _right in front of his five year old sister!_

Who the hell does that!? It worked out okay in the end- is what he'd like to say, but he's nowhere near the end. The end isn't even on the map, let alone in sight!

The _very same day_ , they go to a business meeting with two soldiers escorting, only to have their memories tampered with. There's no conclusive proof, but Seraphy has a pretty solid hunch about this one. Combined with all the conspiracy theory bull that appeared in just _one_ conversation with Illya, it's been impossible for him to get a solid night's sleep!

Maybe he could properly lower his stress if he could talk with her alone, but she has a six person, rotating guard detail now. It's not going to happen anytime soon.

On top of all that, there's _another_ business meeting in two days. The sudden extended leave he's taking from work is going to hurt his reputation, and therefore his chances for promotion. Doubly so since his presence as a doctor could mean the difference between life and death for a patient.

Still...

Seeing the girls behave normally, like nothing's happened and everything's fine, brings a smile to his face. It makes him happy, bantering with Illya, cooking with Chloe, and explaining medicine to Corniche. Seeing them play together joyfully heals him.

He can't help wondering if it's the same for Marcoh.

Speaking of healing, Illyasviel has been doing so quickly. She was in a wheelchair two days ago, and has already moved on to crutches. He checked her condition himself, so he can only say it's miraculous.

It's also extremely suspicious. The symptoms she was suffering from appeared to be nerve damage. That doesn't heal in less than a week. Hell, any sort of damage that could put someone to a wheelchair is impossible to heal in that timeframe.

The more he finds out, the more he's convinced the Einzbern girls are the subjects of human transmutation.

"Excuse me? Seraphy?" Chloe tugs lightly on the man's sleeve, breaking him out of his revere.

"Hm? Yes Chloe?" he turns his gaze to the girl. She still doesn't have a uniform on. There are times where she looks distinctly uncomfortable about that. In the past hour alone she's tried to reach for her apron pocket nine times.

"The other day Onee-san was telling me that factories don't use alchemy to make their products. She said it was an inefficient use of human resources. Why is that?" the tanned girl tilts her head cutely.

Seraphy sighs.

"That's a problem with the industry itself," Seraphy sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "The preconceptions about an alchemist's role aside, the first major reason is cost. Factory workers are untrained labor and can be paid low wages. Alchemists have spent years, usually more than ten, in secondary education to do what they do. Employing an average alchemist for a single day would cost the same as twenty people for a week.

When you consider the amount of concentration required to transmute the same thing in the exact same way over and over for hours, it's simply safer to employ the twenty laborers. They can split the work up so it's not as stressful, and they can take turns taking breaks so production doesn't have to stop at any point."

"Can't the alchemist just make a bunch at once? Wouldn't it be better than twenty workers?" Chloe points out.

"If the company can afford to staff an entire team, maybe. Then there's demand over time to take into account, as well as storage, non-disclosure agreements, knowledgable oversight, transmutation circle licensing-" Seraphy shakes his head. "Anyway, just trust me for now when I say that it's proven to be safer for a business to hire regular people for regular, non-urgent work. I've got a business book at home that explains it pretty well. I'll let you read it when we get back."

"Really? Thank you!" Chloe claps her hands. "Onee-san and Neun take care of business matters. They're always willing to explain, but I can never understand their explanations."

"Who's Noin?" Corniche butts in, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"It's pronounced Neun," Illya returns to the conversation with an annoyed protest. "That one manages Atelier Einzbern while we're out."

"Is Noin-"

"Neun," Illya corrects again.

"-a girl your age?"

Chloe stills. Only for a moment, but Seraphy notices. She can't completely erase her tension afterwards either.

What kind of secret are they hiding this time?

"Dunno!" Illya declares boldy.

"Huh?"

The Royce siblings' faces blank out from incomprehension. Neither has been expecting an answer like that. After all, can't you usually tell who's male or female by their bone structure?

Neither of the Royces realize that most people can't do that.

The Einzbern maid's tension evaporates. The doctor snaps out of his stupor in time to take note of it. He's skeptical, but is it possible Illya isn't lying or hiding something this time?

"I don't know how old Neun is, or if they're a boy or girl! They're a mysterious existence! One of the Seven Wonders of Illya's Castle!" Illyasviel sticks out her chest with some strange sense of pride. Chloe, seeing Illya's pride, hurriedly also pushes out her chest.

As per usual, the Einzbern girls are strange.

"You have a castle?!" Corniche cries excitedly. Seraphy has mixed feelings about his little sister giving a reaction appropriate for her age. On one hand, it helps remind him that she's the most normal of the three. On the other, she literally has a collection of skeletons in her closet and her favorite toy is a human skull.

The company she's keeping can't be good for her development. She needs more normal people friends. Where those might be Seraphy has no idea, but she needs them.

"Huh? Didn't I tell you? Atelier Einzbern is a castle," Illya replies offhandedly.

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you about that," Seraphy puts the half-forgotten book the on the far side of the table, away from where people are eating breakfast. "Since you work on alternative energy sources, I was wondering what kind of facilities or tools you have at home? I doubt you've had much chance to work on it while on the road."

Illya swallows a groan before it can pass her lips. Had she known Seraphy would still be asking questions about her home life, she would have used a different setting to cover her shady dealings with. However covenient it was at the time, it's come back to bite her in the rear now.

"That's a trade secret," she replies with a wink and a cute giggle, "but I suppose I can tell you that we're currently researching the properties of crystals. We have the appropriate amount of gem cutting tools."

By which she means they have none. All of their gems are made with alchemy. After all, they live next to a coal mine, and it's only illegal to make gold.

Amestris should probably update their laws about alchemy use.

Fortunately, Seraphy doesn't know about her illicit activities. If he did he would surely burst a blood vessel. That would be incredibly inconvenient.

"Anyway, Chloe and I are going clothes shopping today," Illya changes the subject. "Are you coming, Minions Three and Four?"

The two guards object to being reduced to numbers, but Illya ignores their protests. Unimportant mook characters get no names, no lines, and are likely to disappear without anyone caring. No point in wasting time on them.

"Hey! What about me?" Corniche whines.

"What about you?" Illya dismisses the redhead girl. "Your brother buys everything for you. What could you possibly need that can't wait until we get back to Central?"

"I need a new apron! My last one has too many holes from cleaning out blood."

"Ugh! Fine! You and your brother can come too!" the white hair girl pouts. Chloe giggles and Seraphy smiles, knowing this is just Illya playing around.

"After you finish eating," the doctor reminds them with a wry smile and an exasperated sigh. His funds are looking pretty precarious as is, but he should be able to afford a new child sized apron. Accompanying the Einzbern girls is no trouble either.

Really, what could go wrong?

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is having a good time. Shopping around for cute clothes, teasing Chloe, and annoying Seraphy is all great fun. Heavy thoughts of her past, the discrepancies in her few remaining memories, and the whereabouts of her missing family are put on hold for an afternoon so she can destress.

Frankly, she needs it.

The unprovable theories are quite frightening. Sure, there's a group who may have answers, but gaining access to them will take a while. Will her brother even be alive at that time?

Additionally, what happened to her father? He participated in the previous Holy Grail War, but the Greater Grail takes sixty years to recharge. Illya is only twenty years old.

Truthfully, the child-like homunculus has an idea of what could have happened. Not just to her father, but to herself and the Holy Grail War. There's enough opposing data that she's shelved it for now, though. It may be cowardly, but it's made easier by the fact that she doesn't want to believe it to be true.

So today is just for enjoying herself.

"Hey Chloe! Look! Isn't this dress cute?" Illya calls her red-eyed sister.

"It really is!" the tanned girl responds with an adorable smile. She then tilts her head with an equally adorable furrow in her brow. "It looks a little small though."

"Think so?" Illya hums, "I'll try it on. Seraphy, watch my things!"

The snowy haired girl takes off for the changing rooms as fast as a girl unused to crutches can. Chloe follows to assist, as does Minion Three. The latter gets shut out of the dressing room. Illya doesn't like how the soldier girl eyes her little sister.

It only takes a few minutes for Illya to change. As her maid-sister said, the dress is a little small. It only causes minor discomfort though, so she's willing to put up with it for the sake of cuteness. She can alter it with alchemy later anyways.

She exits her changing stall with a smile, only to come face to face with an unexpected triclops.

Tigerlily Coffin stands before the loli homunculus looking equally surprised. The Specialized Sensory Frankenstein and right hand of Lord Corpse is wearing casual clothing that hides her form well. A sweater, a long dress, and a headcloth to cover her third eye is all she needs to be someone else in public.

"You're..." the Frankenstein trails off, her lips and mood taking a noticable downturn.

Illya finds this interesting. Why is Tigerlily surprised by her presence? The woman can see through walls and feel a person's shape from the airflow. Illya was only in the other changing room, and her entourage wasn't exactly quiet.

Furthermore, why is the right hand of a major crime lord shopping for clothes alone?

"Hello Miss Secretary," Illya greets cheerily, ignoring any potential bad blood between them to satisfy her curiousity. "I wasn't expecting to see you for another two days."

"You're lucky to see anything at all after what you did," Tigerlily growls, her words as articulate as they are venomous.

"I'm sorry I embarassed you in front of your boyfriend, but-"

"He's not my boyfriend!" the Frankenstein hisses, leaning down as if to tear apart the lie with her teeth. The slight blush on her cheecks betrays her, however, as does the contents of her shopping bag.

"That's a pretty transparent nightgown for someone without a boyfriend," Illya points out, her mischevious grin not at all covered by the hand she brings to her lips. She had been joking with the boyfriend thing, but it looks like she made an unexpectedly useful discovery.

Tigerlily has a crush on Lord Corpse.

Seeing that she's being toyed with, Tigerlily's eyes narrow dangerously. Without bothering to retort or explain herself, she straightens her back and starts to make her way to the register.

"Tch!" Illya frowns with pouting lips. She was hoping to tease the woman, but it looks like Tigerlily is aware enough to realize any denials can and will be used against her. While that doesn't mean the taunts aren't effective, it's not as fun if they don't react.

"Onee-san? What's a boyfriend?" Chloe asks over their master-familiar bond. Illya nearly trips from the question, even as she inwardly preens that her sister would remember that she doesn't like potential enemies overhearing their conversations.

"It's a type of suitor. A variant," she replies.

"I see..." Chloe trails off, apparently thinking hard about the matter.

Illya isn't exactly pleased with that. What if the tanned maid decides to get a boyfriend for herself? Unacceptable! No man in the world is worthy of Chloe! She'll never let anyone take her little sister away!

Before Chloe can comment on the blazing passion in her sister's eyes, they both suddenly have guns pressed to their heads.

"Nobody move!" a professionally dressed woman near the counter shouts. "I don't need to explain what'll happen if you do!"

Illya takes a glance around. Several other women in the store, most of which had been shopping peacefully only minutes ago, are now wielding firearms and holding other shoppers at gunpoint. Seraphy, Corniche, and the Guard Minions are similarly threatened.

While the mini homunculus doesn't much care for the life of an enemy, she notes that Tigerlily has three different assailants pointing their weapons at her. The gun toting unit looks to be all women, and they seem well trained. Their reflexes and response times are probably good enough that any rescue attempts would just get Illya's entourage shot.

"Put your bags on the ground and your hands behind your back," the assault leader orders Tigerlily.

The triclops drops her bags, seeming in compliance with the demands of the enemy. Then, to everyone's surprise, eyeballs grow from her hands! Not the usual sight of eyes which exist inside a socket, but full eyeballs dangling from her fingertips by a bundle of optic nerves.

A bright flash erupts from those strange, hanging organs.

Illya and Chloe recognize the Flashpoint Hypnosis moments before it's unleashed and close their eyes. While Illya would love to see what's going on, Flashpoint Hypnosis uses light for rapid induction. Even if she uses a familiar to take a look, she would still be caught in the effect. As is, she can only open her ears and listen.

The store has become quiet. Illya can only assume people aren't moving. That changes in a heartbeat with a single person's footsteps. It's most likely Tigerlily.

Illya frowns as she uses Reinforcement on her ears. She may not be able to see safely, but the Specialized Sensory Frankenstein wasn't designed with the ability for sound-based hypnosis. It should be fine.

Individual breathing becomes distinct in Illya's ears. Tigerlily's footsteps become loud. The sound of a blade leaving its sheathe comes from the triclops' direction.

The gun wielding women all drop their weapons at once, screaming, grunting, swearing, and generally making a ruckus. They suddenly fall silent no more than two seconds later, their bodies back to being frozen in place while their minds are trapped with whatever visions Tigerlily has graced them with. Someone's breathing is replaced with gurgling, and a body falls to the ground shortly after.

Tigerlily calmly walks around and slits another throat. She takes her time, like a wild cat stalking prey. No, like a cat playing with her food, toying with it before going in for the kill.

Eventually Illya can't take it any more.

"I know you're having fun, but can you hurry this up?" she complains, "I want to get to the restaurant before the dinner rush."

While normally Illya could be patient and wait for the professional to handle the situation, it bears repeating that she's been stressed. Today was supposed to be a vacation day. She's supposed to be having fun and resting.

Now criminals are crawling out of the woodwork, she can't see, and she's going to be late for a tasty chicken dinner. She'll have to show up during the dinner rush and there's bound to be some moron who can't resist bothering her just because her eyes are red. She left behind reading the Philosopher's Stone research for this, and she feels cheated.

"You're lucky Lord Corpse wants the research you have so badly. I'd end you right here otherwise," Tigerlily sneers so hard Illya can hear it. Flashpoint Hypnosis isn't so easy, and she knows Illya knows that. It needs concentration, otherwise the trance weakens.

In other words, Illya is bothering her for no reason when the little girl knows she's busy.

"That's assuming you can even do it," Illya taunts flippantly. "By the way, touch my people and the deal's off."

"I wouldn't waste my time," the Frankenstein spits out even as she ends another life. Her disdain for the child-like homunculus is clear as day.

"Ah, by the way," Illya suddenly changes the subject, "Did you ever find out who tipped off the police?"

She says this without caution, knowing the black haired woman is suppressing all chance of being overheard. The people outside the store are having the illusion of normality pushed upon them. The people inside need not be spoken of.

"Trying to claim you aren't responsible?" Tigerlily shoots back.

It takes Illya a moment to process that.

"Wait, you think _we_ did it? Are you stupid?!" she scoff in disbelief. "There was a maid candidate I wanted there! Do you know how hard it is to find someone who meets Einzbern Maid Standards?! There are less than a one in a million people who can even think about it!"

"... How did you capitalize Maid Standards while speaking, and how did you make it noticable?"

Tigerlily shows her amazing powers of perception by asking the most important question.

"That's not important!" Illya complains loudly. "I went in there expecting to leave with a huge haul and all I got was a deal for something I could have looted from your corpses anyway!"

Tigerlily, of course, won't take any of that.

"You're too arrogant!" the Frankenstein explodes. "Lord Corpse is far greater than anything you could imagine! Saying you could match him, let alone kill him? Save your sleeptalk for when you're sleeping!"

"Greater than I can imagine...?" Illya repeats with a derisive laugh. "I doubt it. I've fought with and against some of humanity's greatest heroes."

Her head throbs with a familiar pain as she speaks.

A blue-clad man with a demonic red spear flashes across her closed eyelids.

"Cu Chulainn."

The pain spikes suddenly, turning sharp and heavy.

A golden-haired swordswoman in armor stands beside her older brother, determination etched deep in their faces and burning bright in their eyes.

"King Arthur."

Images of running through the snow fly across her vision. The howls of obsession fill her ears and the fear of death chases her. The cold of loneliness seeps into her skin, mixing with the sorrow of failure and pain of disappointment until everything is burning numb.

She trips. She falls. Hungry wolves, shadows of Einzbern ambition come to devour her.

Then an inhuman roar echoes. Through the wind, through the trees, through the mountains, and through her heart. There's an explosion that rocks them all.

A dark skinned giant stands before her in the snow. There's blood on his axe-sword, and splatters of red on her white dress. The remains of hungry wolves steam in the cold.

"... Herakles."

Illya laughs again. It's not a dark and forboding laugh, with undertones promising suffering previously unimaginable. That would have been expected given her tendency to give out dark threats with hardly a thought.

It's not, however. Her laughter is bright. It is joyous and celebratory.

Despite the splitting headache, she is happy. For once, she's remembered something truly good. Her stress has been blown away.

Sure, it's bittersweet and leaves her with too many unanswered questions like the rest of her pre-desert memories. However, this time she knows the fate of her precious person with certainty. She won the Holy Grail War. Herakles was there with her until the last moment. He didn't disappear without reason, and he proved he was the strongest.

He was her hero.

He was her savior.

That hasn't changed even though he's gone.

There's no way she wouldn't notice how easy it was to regain that memory. She didn't pass out from the pain, and, despite how vivid it was, she didn't lose perception of her surroundings. The memory was littered with new leads to follow, too.

"I just remembered something good, so I'll stop here. I'll even forgive you for trying to compare a corpse to demigods, kings, and saints. Just finish up and go home. I bet you can't wait to use your new black lace battle wear."

Hearing this, Tigerlily grits her teeth and viciously slashes one of the attacker's throats. She uses all of her iron will to control her temper. If she doesn't, she would definitely attack Illya. Regardless if it did any damage or not, Lord Corpse would be upset because the deal would fall through. The chance to gain the other Specialized Frankenstein research might disappear forever.

What Illya said is ridiculus. Cu Chulainn? King Arthur? Herakles? They're just legends. Myths. They aren't real.

Then again, the same could be said of Dr. Frankenstein.

Though, if Illya is a homunculus it would make sense. Many homunculi have life-spans far exceeding that of a human being. If Illya's been around since the time of Herakles...

Could she know the secret arts of Salsburg?

Tigerlily's frown lesses enough to stop baring her teeth by the time she ends the last crook. Though she can't stand Illya or her childishness, fighting with her will only displease Lord Corpse. He wants that research more than anything.

The Frankenstein erases her name and appearance from the memories of the remaining people in the store, then leaves to report to her boss. The Einzbern girls get to live another day. The moment they stop being useful, however...

It'll be time for a Tiger Festival.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern sits at the table, listening to the clock tick. It's half past six. She's in her hotel room. The Guard Mooks are outside the door. Chloe and Corniche are with them, making sure they keep their promise not to eavesdrop.

Across from her, Seraphy sits in similar silence. He is the one who requested the private conversation, and he's the one who convinced everyone else to get out. He hasn't said a word so far and has been brooding behind interlocked fingers, elbows resting on the table.

It's by far the most boring conversation Illya has ever shared with him.

Really, what else could go wrong today?

"Illya," he begins. He then stops to wet his lips. Any good brood for more than ten minutes will dry them out.

"Illya," he begins again, "I suspect you can alter memories."

A long silence falls between them. Neither of their expressions change. The clock continues to tick in the background.

"... I can," she admits. "However, what happened at the clothing store wasn't me. My version takes longer than a flash of light."

"How do I know you aren't lying to me? Twenty minutes passed, and I don't remember any of it. You're a skilled alchemist. You could have easily made a blade and disposed of it without anyone the wiser."

Illya frowns.

"Seraphy, I asked before if you really wanted to know, and you said no-"

"That was before a bright flash of light was all it took to kill twelve gunwomen with a knife," he cuts her off. "I have a right to know so I can defend myself."

Another silence falls. Seraphy's eyes are hard. The clock ticks. The sun sets, and shadows move to blanket the room in darkness.

"... There's a reason I don't tell you these things," Illya finally lets out a heavy sigh. "Do you think I'm the only one that can alter memories? If they can be altered, don't you think they can be accessed? Knowing anything more than you do now will put you in danger. You and your family will be destroyed if it's found out."

Illya sighs again.

"Look, you have no defenses, and I don't know enough about this country's alchemy to make them. If I tell you more now, you're probably going to die. Even though you're a nuisance and a hindrance, I like you Seraphy. I don't want you to die."

The girl lets out another heavy sigh.

Then her ruby eyes turn sharp.

"Still, it's because I like you that I'm giving you a choice. You are a person, not a thing. You can make choices, and will have to bear the consequences of those choices. So I'll ask you again: Do you really want to know more and put everyone you love at risk? Or will you back down and let it lie until I have a method to protect you?"

Seraphy remains quiet as he thinks. The day is done, its light no longer gracing the skies. The clock chimes, reminding everyone that it's only seven and winter is upon them.

"Before I decide," he eventually puts sound into the quiet, "Can you guarantee, with absolute certainty, that a protection against memory alteration can be made?"

Illya opens her mouth to respond, but Seraphy continues before she can speak.

"The answer is no. You're looking into this country's alchemy because your family's alchemy doesn't have a method."

"Doesn't have a method _yet_ ," Illya finally gets a word in. "The attack today was a product of Amestrian alchemy. I'll need to do more research before I can say anything for certain."

"Exactly. Judging from your progress, you'll graduate from my and Marcoh's tutelage in approximately three months. We'll have no more alchemy to teach you unless you start delving into medicine. Even then, you seem to know enough about the human body that it will only add another three to nine months.

That's three months to a year where me and my family will be in danger from _your_ enemies. Enemies the military apparently can't do anything about, and you can't protect us from. Even after you leave, we chance them targetting us because of our connection to you."

"Those weren't our enemies," Illya explains, "They belonged to the person who made the flash of light. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That doesn't matter!" he hisses, his hands coming down to slam on the table. They stop at the last second, hovering less than an inch from the surface. They ball into fists, then come back to lock fingers in front of his mouth again.

"It doesn't matter," he repeats, "because now I know it doesn't matter. Even if I don't have to worry about you and your _family business_ , there are others out there. With all your talk of murdering my family, I doubt all of them will be so accomidating. Nor, I suspect, will they care that the innocent bystanders are just that."

Seraphy stops to take a deep breath and center himself. His calm demeanor doesn't really hide his agitation, but it speaks well of his self-control. He presses his lips together and finds them dry again.

"What possible reason do I have to say no?"

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 12**


	19. Ch016 - Heaven's Feel 12

**A/N: Did anyone notice that in Ch12 of the Manga, Lust is reading a newspaper with a headline about a "British Naval Commander Murder"? I'm pretty sure it's a reference to a Bond movie that came out around that time, but... I'mma play with it. Boom. Britain is totally a thing in FMA now.**

 **... Though why a landlocked country like Amestris would care about an island country's navy is beyond me.**

 **So it looks like I'm going to be trying to get out two more chapters this month since I couldn't get it out last month.**

 **Current goal is to have the next chapter out by 11/20, and the one after that out by 11/30. May not be possible, though. It's finals season, y'know?**

* * *

 **Reviews:**

 **shelwyn [Ch015, 10/28/2017]: Thanks. I always appreciate the encouragement. =]**

 **ptl [Ch008, 10/29/2017]: That is correct.**

 **Ramax Viscurio [Ch015, 10/31/2017]: Yeah... I get that a lot. Especially when DM-ing for D &D. If I were a better writer I could fix that quickly, but... I'm not. I'll do what I can, but I make no guarantees.  
** **Thanks for the encouragement! I'll keep on keepin' on, and eventually... I might even be good! XD**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch 016

Heaven's Feel 12

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern stands in front of the door with some trepidation. Seraphy and Corniche have already stepped inside. Chloe obediently holds the door and waits for Illya to enter.

Yet the elder Einzbern hesitates.

Seraphy yelled at her a lot when he arrived in her hospital room, and it wasn't without reason. His rage, worry, and desperation was all justified. Illya wasn't being considerate at all.

Until now, Illya had assumed that because she's a homunculus of noble lineage, such a thing would have been pre-programmed into her. Matters of business and territory management are there. Etiquette is also there, though she typically ignores it for the sake of study.

So why didn't she consider the feelings of her benefactor at all? Surely a noble's consideration would be greater than that? Illya thought about it in her spare time, which she had several days of in Dublith.

Of course, she already knows what the problem is. The Einzberns are Magi before they are nobles. The Magus mindset takes precidence over noble considerations.

What causes her hesitation is that it was simple common courtesy to tell Marcoh she was going. She could have transmuted a note in seconds. It would have cost her nothing.

In other words, the attitude of a Magus had nothing to do with it.

Illya just didn't think about how her actions would affect Dr. Marcoh. The man has been patient and kind. Returning that with worry and heartache for no reason is... very selfish.

For the first time she can recall, she feels guilty.

Giving Chloe a fear of ghosts didn't make her feel this way. Upsetting Seraphy doesn't either. Killing people? It goes without saying that she didn't even bat an eye.

However, the small guilt she feels toward Marcoh makes her hesitate to re-enter his home. She caused him a lot of trouble. She'll undoubtedly cause more now that she's made deals on both sides of a shadow war.

"Hm? Illya, you coming?" Seraphy calls to her, bringing the girl back to reality.

"Yeah, coming," she nods and steps over the threshold.

Then she falls. She falls into darkness. Chloe reaches out for her, but doesn't catch her in time.

So Illya falls. She falls and falls into the shadows until there's no more light. She's all alone.

Suddenly she's standing, surrounded by white. There's a gigantic door behind her. In front there's a strange being shaped like her, a white void outlined by shadow that fades into the surroundings.

It smiles.

"You've done a very naughty thing, haven't you?"

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern wakes up with a start. Her head is on a swivel, her eyes dart around frantically as she tries to get her bearings. The room is dark, but the moonlight peaking through the curtain is enough for her to realize where she is.

As soon as she accepts she still in the hotel room, she drops her face back into the pillow.

"What a nasty dream," she murmurs.

Judging from the position of the moon, today's the day of the trade with Lord Corpse. It's been two days since Seraphy has been brought into the Moonlit World. She took the time to teach him the basics, but there's still a lot Illya needs to tell him about. That stuff will have to wait until they get back to Central, though.

Unfortunately, she's had plenty of time to think. She tried to busy herself with reading the Philosopher's Stone research, but that was only relaxing until she got to the actual creation process. The ingredients list left her with so many questions that she's been having nightmares.

The Philosopher's Stone is made from human souls. That's the main ingredient. It's the _only_ ingredient. The body is not consumed, and no blood is infused. With only human souls, a Stone is made.

In other words, an incomplete attempt at Materialization of the Soul.

The Third Magic hasn't been reduced to a craft, but alchemy has already fallen. How long does it have left? _What has science done?_

When the horror of the potential loss of a True Magic dulled enough for her to feel anything else, she was left with irritation over the false stone. After all, it's not a _real_ Philosopher's Stone unless it provides infinite energy, cures all wounds, and bestows immortality. This... _thing_ doesn't even break the Law of Conservation of Mass!

The human soul contains incredible amounts of energy, and that energy is worth a lot. It's why a person's lifeforce, or Od, can be converted into useable magic energy, or Prana, and used to pervert the world according to the wielder's wishes. The energy of life is worth that much, and a human has an entire lifetime's worth of it.

With that energy, it's entirely possible to do things normally not possible.

The notes state that the Philosopher's Stone can cure all wounds and ills, ignore the Law of Natural Providence, bypass the Law of Equivelent Exchange, and create matter. None of these thing alone are worth notice. The Law of Natural Providence is less and less restricting the more you know about subatomic particles. Creating matter is also not a big deal when you can pay the cost of energy to matter conversion.

Frankly, the idea that a finite resource like this fake Stone could bypass the Law of Equivelent Exchange is laughable.

However, its true worth lies in the fact that the user doesn't really have to know what they're doing to make these things happen. A third rate alchemist could transmute water into stone, heal the sick, and create matter. The energy usage would be disgustingly wasteful compared to an alchemist that actually has the related skills and knowledge, but the fact that it can be done at all is impressive.

The phenomena is mentioned repeatedly in the notes, but never really explained. Even though that's due to it following basic Amestrian alchemy principles and thus not needing an explanation, Illya doesn't like it. It sounds too much like Wishcraft.

How could she read the second book right after all that?

"Onee-san?" Chloe whispers from next to her, drawing the homunculus girl back to the present.

"I'm fine," Illya replies upon hearing the worry in her sister's voice.

The silence of the night settles back over them. The only other sounds are the clock's ticking and the Royce siblings' breathing. The Guard Minions stand watch as silently as possible on the other side of the room's only entrance.

"Hey Onee-san?"

"Hm?"

"It was a bad dream, right? If... if it's okay, can I know what your dream was about?"

Illya turns her face across the pillow to look at her sister. She's a little conflicted. On one hand, seeing Chloe timidly ask a personal question is so cute it makes her want to explode. On the other, Chloe shouldn't be timid when asking questions like that. They're sisters. They should be closer than that.

"... It was about going back to Marcoh's house and getting told I'm a bad girl," Illya says after a moment, her hypocrisy giving rise to a murky feeling in her chest. She ignores it. It's probably the lingering feelings of her dream.

After all, why would she feel guilty? She told the truth! She just left out all the important details!

Just as Illya's realizing there may be a reason she's having dreams like that, Chloe surprises her by giggling.

"Huh? What's so funny?" Illya pouts.

"Ah, it's just..." Chloe giggles a time or two more, "I thought 'So Onee-san has worries like that too, huh?' I was relieved."

Illya puffs out her cheeks to exagerate her pouting.

"Geez! I may be the most amazing alchemist ever, but I'm a girl too you know!"

Chloe barely keeps her giddy sounds down, her smile lighting up the room. Either unwilling or unable to contain herself, the tanned girl pulls her elder sister into a firm hug. Then, without warning, she places her lips on Illya's.

The kiss only lasts for a moment, but it sends Illya into a tizzy.

"Wh-wh-what are you doing?!" she whispers forcefully, her red cheeks hidden by the darkness.

Not that that means anything to Chloe, who can see just fine in the dark due to other ambient radiation.

"Well, uhm... I like it when you charge me, and you're always happy after charging me, so I thought..." Chloe trails off, her mood sinking.

"Th-that's not the problem!" Illya insists, "I need to prepare my heart first, you know? Plus, what'll we do if the light wakes up the others? Why do you think I've been charging you in the bathroom?"

"So... it's okay?" the tanned maid asks hopefully.

"Yeah," Illya nods. "Just... don't do it so suddenly next time. And make sure no one will see the light from the energy transfer. Risking the secrecy of the Moonlit World is a bad."

"Okay!" Chloe agrees quietly.

Once more, silence falls between the two of them. Illya closes her eyes and tries to go back to sleep. The warmth of Chloe's body pressed against her own is a little stifling under the thick blanket, but she endures for the sake of her cute sister. Even though she gets a little sticky and a little sweaty, it's bearable because the maid-sister is so adorable.

"Hey Onee-san?" Chloe suddenly starts speaking again just as Illya is starting to nod off.

"Yes Chloe?" the elder sister supresses her irritation. She really needs to get a full night's sleep. Not only does she need to read that second book she got from Greed, she'll be having an important meeting with a big time Frankenstein later. Frankensteins are a product of alchemy, and are therefore potentially dangerous to her. Being well rested is a must.

Plus, she's going to need a shower first thing in the morning.

"Do you think Otou-san and Okaa-san would like charging me too?" the innocent maid girl asks.

"... I don't know," Illya answers cautiously, "I don't remember much about them. I have one memory of Papa, but-"

-he killed our Mama.

Illya is no fool, and it's been four days. She's had plenty of time to figure it out and not enough work to distract herself with. Much as she might wish it otherwise, she can't deny the truth.

She and her mother are the same model. They were created to be the Lesser Grail for their Holy Grail Wars. The defeated Heroic Spirits would fill them one by one, until the collected power rendered them unable to function as a person anymore.

Regardless of what he spent his wish on, Kiritsugu won the Holy Grail War. Doing so meant that his wife would die. He had to have known, yet he still did it. She died as a direct result of his actions. He killed his wife.

Illya tries not to think about it, but it's hard. She only remembers her mother's face and the love they most certainly shared. Now Illya will never see her, meet her, talk to or get to know her.

The snowy-haired girl can't help wondering what her parents were thinking. There's no way they didn't know how it would end, yet they still fell in love. The mercenary and the sacrifice fell so in love that they married and had a child.

Why didn't they run away? They could have made it, right? Papa was a big time mercenary, and Mama was an Einzbern homunculus. That's formidable. They could have found a place in the suburbs, and hidden among the masses. Maybe they could have lived a peaceful life that didn't require one of them to die.

Really, did they even realize how important they were at all? To their child, if no one else? Illya can't imagine they didn't know, but can't understand how they rationalized their actions if they did. Even in the best case scenario, only Kiritsugu would come home.

Illyasviel takes a shaky breath.

"-even if they did, I don't think they could shoulder the Prana cost."

Then, like so, she calmly hides the truth. Even if she's willing to admit it to herself, she can't admit it to Chloe. She isn't sure why.

For now, she rationalizes it as having dangerous work left in the city. Rattling the maid's emotional state with a bomb as large as her mother's death would be foolish. This is especially true when they're meeting with Lord Corpse later in the day.

Chloe makes a disappointed sound. Illya comforts her lightly, but tells the girl to go to sleep. They'll need their rest.

They have many trials ahead, after all.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern sits in a comfortable lounge chair and sips her tea. Across from her is a pale man with long black hair, dressed in fine white clothes from head to toe. His top hat, for reasons unknown, carries the kanji for 'death' on the front. The reason it's made of gold is also unknown, but it's likely either a wasteful vanity or a secret weapon.

One step behind and one step to the right of their respective masters, Tigerlily Coffin and Chloe von Einzbern silently wait to serve. The former stands tall and with dignity, like a soldier at parade rest. The latter also stands straight, though demurely and with weaker presence as appropriate of a servant.

A pair of soldiers stand another two steps behind their charge's right hands. Illya's escorts, naturally, have been hypnotized to not realize what's going on. That is to say, they're useless.

Lord Corpse's, on the other hand, are not. Though their equipment and training don't seem to be better by any significant amount, they're awake and aware. Additionally, the way they hum with electricity gives them away as Frankensteins.

Seraphy isn't in the room. In fact, he's back at the hotel with Corniche and the other four guards. Despite his inital reluctance to let the Einzberns go out on their own, he's been let into the fold.

It's unknown if he'll ever truly trust again.

"I have to say, Miss Einzbern, that I've enjoyed doing business with you far more than I thought I would."

Lord Corpse's smile is gentlemanly and suits his handsome face well. However, his eyes are murky with obsession and madness. It's not something that'd be seen with a casual glance, but a closer look reveals it almost immediately. It makes any conversations with him feel eerie and offputting.

"I'm glad to hear that," Illya smiles as she puts her teacup back on the coaster elegantly. "I feel much the same. It's rare to meet someone so rational on This Side of society."

They both chuckle. After all, neither of them are lying. They genuinely enjoyed themselves more than they thought they would.

That doesn't mean much, though. They originally looked down on each other as fringe elements of their respective underworlds, and that hasn't really changed. They still think of the other as repulsive and plan to eliminate they as soon as they're no longer useful.

Yes, the only thing that's changed is that they'll be polite about it.

"Well, shall we move on now that we've both had the chance to look over the manuscripts and verify their authenticity?" Lord Corpse waves his hand at the table, gesturing to their traded copies of Frankenstein research.

The initial deal has already been completed. Unlike her meeting with Greed where Chloe had to maintain a complicated Flashpoint Hypnosis on three people, there's no genius they need to deceive so the workload is much lighter. There's no need to rush.

Due to this, the last two hours have been spent drinking tea, eating snacks, and reading books in a well furnished sitting room that doesn't at all belong in an abandoned cannery.

If Tigerlily didn't know better, she'd think this was a book club.

"To the price for the other Specialized Frankenstein notes, right?" Illya raises a delicate brow, her smugness peeking through in her grin.

"It's good that you're quick on the uptake," Lord Corpse nods, only allowing the smallest sliver of sarcasm into his voice. "I hear you're recruiting, and that your standards are quite high."

"They are," Illya confirms, "If you can find someone that meets those standards, then I might not mind handing over another set of notes. However..."

She pauses as she tries to figure out how to spin her family's standards. Even a failed Einzbern homunculus is worth a hundred magi in raw power, and a single magi is worth at least ten normal people. As all Einzberns left are homunculi, that would put the average Einzbern as being worth approximately ten-thousand normal people.

Once you subtract Illya and Chloe and calculate based on past data, that is. They're the only two left, and they're both far above the norm. Adding them would only skew the data.

In any case, none of that really applies to hiring maids.

True, Illya does have high standards for maids. Additionally, she wants competent subordinates that aren't secretly spies. Getting them from the enemy might be a bad idea on that second requirement, but making use of a crime lord's information network would make things easier for her.

"However...?" Lord Corpse quirks a brow, hiding his impatience even as he signals her to continue.

Illya looks him in the eye. Frankly, this will probably end poorly. Still, she has everything she needs from him. She can crush him whenever she feels like it.

That would be a waste, however. It's better to find a new use for him. Recycling is better for the planet anyway.

"I'm looking for people with potential to rival the Virtues of the Flamel or the Sins of the Oroborous. Are you really willing to scout personel for a possible future enemy?"

Lord Corpse doesn't react to the admission they may become enemies in the future. It's only the nature of underworld partnerships. There's nothing to flinch from or be surprised about.

"How you would go about measuring that potential?" he asks instead. "The limits of a talented human are hard to gauge. They could be a shallow well that only grows a little quickly, or be so unfathomably deep that they threaten to overthrow you. It's entirely possible that someone who seemed promising at first will never meet your expectations."

"Don't worry about that. If you give me accurate dossiers, I'll figure it out from there."

"I see."

Lord Corpse takes a sip of his tea. It's a common stalling tactic, used to give himself time to think. So common, in fact, that Illya doesn't bother calling him out on it.

"I'll keep an eye out then," he decides as he sets down his tea in a refinded manner. Illya nods in confirmation. She almost readies herself to leave when he speaks again.

"By the way, what about your family?" he says, stopping her before she even starts. "If I can bring you the ones in your fliers...?"

"If you bring me the real deal, alive and unharmed, then sure," Illya immediately agrees. She licks her lips as she rethinks what she's about to say next. She doesn't want to say it, but she tempers her resolve. It needs to be said sometime, and right now she has a convenient excuse to not run away from the matter.

"I already know where the woman is, though," she utters heavily.

Chloe can't help herself and takes a sharp breath of surprise. No one missed it. Illya ignores it for her own peace of mind and continues speaking.

"I'll be putting out another flier soon, so you can focus your efforts on that one instead."

"I look forward to it," Lord Corpse chuckles. Illya can easily see him taking special interest in how Illya didn't share that important information with Chloe. He's likely planning on using it against them later.

There is silence for a short time. The two stare at the other's irregular eyes, as if trying to determine who is the greater hidden monster. Is it the child-like monster from the Moonlit World, or the man-like monster from the World of Organized Crime?

Before they can truly decide, Illya stands.

"Well, if there's no more business then I'll be going."

"I appreciate doing business with you," Lord Corpse stands and bows like the gentleman he pretends to be. "I'll contact you as soon as I have something of interest."

Which, of course, is a big fat lie. He'll put the situation to his advantage as much as possible first. Illya isn't fooled.

"Likewise, I'll let you know if I come up with something worth the price of those notes," she gracefully curtsies, signalling the true end of their meeting.

Formalities taken care of, the monster nobles say their farewells and fade back into the night.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 13**


	20. Ch017 - Heaven's Feel 13

**A/N: Sorry for delay. Finals crunch time combined with holiday madness screwed up my sleeping schedule. I've only recently gotten back into the swing of things. As you can see, I'm now behind schedule by a full two months. Boo.**

 **I'm still not really feeling the flow of this chapter. The last one was much better. Hopefully the next one will turn out better. I'm going to work hard to make it worth reading!**

 **In case anyone is curious, it's still undecided as to whether Illya will end up as a hero or a villain. I'm somewhat inclined to make her the final boss...**

* * *

 **Reviews:**

 **shelwyn [Ch016, 11/14/2017]: Thanks. As always, I appreciate your encouragement. =D**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch 017

Heaven's Feel 13

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern nervously shifts in the backseat of the car as she waits for a response from her sister. During the meeting, the elder homunculus deliberately revealed that she knows where their mother is to, in a roundabout manner, finally stop hesitating and tell Chloe about it.

Chloe hasn't said a thing.

Not only has Chloe not said a word, she doesn't seem bothered at all. She's wearing the same face as ever, and her body language hasn't really changed either. It's as if the matter is of no consequence.

Honestly, it only makes Illya more nervous and jittery. She was expecting eager requests to go see their mother, angry demands for an explanation, or tearful entreaties for action. She never expected _nothing._

Anyone who knows the elder Einzbern would agree she's not a roundabout person, though. Illya herself recognizes how odd her actions are, but can only attribute it to her still dormant memories influencing her. In that light, Chloe's reaction makes perfect sense. Illya can't understand her own inner workings, so how could the immature Chloe even guess?

"Are you okay Onee-san?" Chloe asks through their familiar bond, surprising her sister with the suddenness of it.

"E-eh? Uh, yeah!" Illya hastily agrees. She immediately regrets it. That was a good chance.

"Are you sure?" the tanned girl asks again, concerned with how twitchy her elder sister is being.

Illya's face scrunches up strangely as she tries stop avoiding the issue and tell Chloe their mom is dead. It's weird and irritating that she's having so much trouble. She can kill without a hint of remorse. How is informing someone of a death harder than killing a person?

"No, I guess not," she admits.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Chloe asks when Illya doesn't continue.

"Er, not really," the elder Einzbern replies awkwardly, even as she inwardly berates herself.

Chloe takes Illya's hand in her own and gently slips her fingers between her sister's. Illya turns her head to see what the maid is up to, only to find a sad smile on Chloe's face. It makes the tanned girl look surprisingly mature.

Well, it's Illya's own face though.

"... Even though we have the recipe for the Stone now, suddenly remembering something like that must be hard," Chloe comforts Illya. "I'm still here, though. Please don't be sad."

Illya opens her mouth, then closes it because it'd be weird to reply to a mental conversation out loud. She stumbles to arrange her thoughts into a coherent response, and once she does she hesitates to send them. The Minion in the passenger seat says something about the faces she's making, but goes ignored.

"... How'd you know?" Illya finally transmits.

"If she were alive, wouldn't you be happy? If she were locked up, wouldn't you be mad? If she were hurt or in danger, wouldn't you be in a hurry? Since you're none of those things, Okaa-san must be dead."

Chloe's logic is correct. Illya can't refute it. As the elder sister, it's a little embarassing to be found out so quickly.

"It's a good thing we got the Philosopher's Stone recipe recently, but if you're still so troubled it must be hard to make," the maid continues. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help? I can get the materials at least, right?"

"About that..." Illya winces. "What Greed gave us is amazing, but it's not the real thing. It can't bring back the dead."

"What?!" Chloe mentally yelps in surprise, "You mean he cheated us?!"

"No, I'm pretty sure he thought the research made a real Philosopher's Stone too. It's an honestly interesting work on the transmutation of souls, and the product of the research is still powerful and versatile. I don't think it's worth the time or effort for _us_ , but it's a work of miracles for pretty much anyone else."

"Oh," Chloe blinks. "That's sad."

The car stops at the red corner sign, despite it being late and there being no one else on the road. There's a few seconds between stopping and starting again as Minion Six obeys traffic laws like a good boy. He even uses his turn signal _like he's supposed to_.

Illya uses that time to collect herself. The subject of her mother's death is hard on her. Despite having no concrete memories of the woman, her feelings for her beloved Mama are surprisingly intense.

Frankly, she's in grieving and only pretending to be okay. She isn't sure how to feel aside from sad. Her missing memories only complicate matters. Without knowing why her parents went through with the Holy Grail War when they knew they wouldn't come home together, Illya can't even maintain her anger at being abandoned properly.

Illya isn't sure how she should tell Chloe about that, either. Though Chloe deserves to know about her mother's death, there's no need to burden her with Illya's confusion and half-baked theories about their father. Maybe once things settle down, but even that's uncertain.

After all, Chloe doesn't have the same attachment to their parents that Illya does. You can't miss what you've never had. Chloe would be sad about the missed opportunity, but the sense of loss wouldn't be there.

Suffice to say, Illya is still pretty stressed out. However, a magus is one who walks with death. She's enduring.

"So, the fake stone transmutes souls somehow?" Chloe asks through their bond after some introspection.

"No, it's made of human souls," Illya explains. "It's actually pretty ingenious. It uses the massive amounts of energy and the finite, valuable resource known as Humanity within human souls to make up for lack of knowledge, skill, or materials, exploiting Equivalent Exchange instead of bypassing it. It's really clever. Well, that's why it's only a fake, too. A real Philosopher's Stone doesn't obey the laws of alchemy."

"Ingenious? I think you mean gross," Chloe frowns. She doesn't like the idea of it. Sure, she doesn't have a soul herself yet so she can't say what the big deal is, but ripping them out of others sounds kind of mean. Unless the souls are already floating around on their own-

"Wait, can the fake stone be made of ghosts?!" the maid begins to panic.

"No way," Illya immediately denies. "The soul disperses within minutes of death and returns to the Root. Once that happens, it's gone. Since ghosts are made from the remnants of thought and the fake stone needs souls, you can't make a fake Philosopher's Stone from ghosts."

"Oh, that's good," Chloe sighs in relief.

"The ones that have been around a long time are probably made of wraiths, though," Illya teases her sister lightly even though she isn't feeling well. "Without their souls, their bodies would start falling apart. Decaying, rotting, rising from somewhere between life and death in search of souls!"

"Onee-san! No! No ghosts!"

The sisters banter playfully like that for a while. It bolsters Illya's spirits and calms Chloe's worries. Though the latter nearly starts a rampage from being teased too much, both feel less burdened. After all, there's nothing quite like family.

"So, why can't we use a fake stone to resurrect Okaa-san again? Since we're trading souls for souls and taking advantage of Equivelant Exchange anyway, even if Okaa-san is worth ten-thousand..."

Chloe wavers near the end, but she returns to the original topic. Even though it's hard to talk about, Illya loves their mother. If there's some way to bring her back then Illya will be happy.

Really, isn't that the most important thing?

"No, that won't work," Illya replies. She takes a moment to gather herself before continuing.

"Remember how I said souls return to the Root? That's because they originate from there. They leave, then return. They leave, then return. There's a natural cycle. Since this fake stone takes advantage of natural laws rather than bypassing them, there is absolutely zero chance of it working. After all, it's only natural that dead people can't be alive."

"I see," Chloe nods. "So the fake stone is gross and useless."

Illya doesn't disagree. It's fine if Chloe thinks like that. The fake stone clearly makes the tanned girl uncomfortable, so Illya won't force her to talk about it. Chloe won't be involved in the related research anyway. There's no need to dirty the younger sister's hands with cruel reality of being a magus.

"Hmm..." Chloe wracks her brain for a solution. "Oh! Heroic Spirits are souls in the Root! Can you summon a dead person like a Servant?"

Illya tilts her head as she thinks it over. The idea has merit.

Honestly, she isn't sure whether it would work or not. Summoning a soul from Akasha should be possible with the right resources, but targeting something so small would be difficult. Heroic Spirits actually aren't that hard to summon due to being large 'immobile' targets, so they can't be used to compare.

However, the Clock Tower's research shows that most souls reincarnate. There's still little to no concrete data on what happens during that process or how long it takes, but it's been at least ten years since her mother died. If one were to look at it optimistically, it's only been around ten to fifteen years.

"No idea, but I suppose it's worth trying. I'll do some experiments later," Illya finally settles on saying.

"R-really? Hooray!" Chloe's grip tightens as the situation sinks in.

Chloe can't repress the smile on her sun-kissed face. Just knowing she helped her sister regain some hope is making her feel fuzzy inside. It makes talking about such an uncomfortable topic totally worth it.

"Okay, seriously! What the hell are you two doing?!" Minion Five cuts in, no longer able to help himself. "You keep making faces and nodding and shit!"

"How rude!" Illya accuses, finally speaking aloud. "I thought the military raised you better! I should go tell your CO on you!"

"Don't say it like you're scolding a naughty child!" he energetically retorts.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, though?" Illya tilts her head cutely, feigning ignorance for the sole purpose of teasing the soldier.

Considering the man's frustrated growls, she applauds herself for mission success.

"Anyway, what _were_ you two doing making all those weird faces?" the taller Minion Six calmly enters the conversation.

"You don't want to know," Illya replies after a few seconds of silence.

"We don't?" Minion Six asks, confused.

"You don't," she confirms.

"The f- Of course we wanna know!" Minion Five shouts. "We wouldn't be asking if we didn't!"

"You don't understand. You _don't want to know_ ," the homunculus repeats patiently.

"Why are you so infuriating?!"

"Can I ask why?" Minion Six ignores his fellow soldier's frustration in favor of seeking answers.

Illya tilts her head again, this time in serious thought as she contemplates whether or not to give the usual line. On one hand, if they haven't figured it out by now then maybe they need to have their lives threatened. On the other, they're minions. The military wouldn't send essential personel for guard duty. Threatening them with their lives would be a waste of time and energy, not to mention that they'd probably report it to their higher ups.

"No."

Before Minion Five can give into his rage and do who knows what, Minion Six cuts in to point out the raging fire that is downtown.

This is not a metaphor for the nightlife. Downtown Dublith is on fire. They're almost back to their uptown hotel and they can see the smoke, lit up by the growing light from beyond the buildings. Once they open the window, the sounds of fire department bells and the roar of a great flame finally reaches their ears.

Illya is suspicious. There wasn't a fire when they left the cannery ten minutes ago. Do fires of that size develop so fast?

She quickly decides that they do not. At least, not in Dublith. It hasn't rained while she's been here, but there's a lake right outside of town. Every morning is foggy. There's no way things could get dry enough for a blaze that large.

"Onee-san! We have to help!" Chloe cries out.

"I don't want to, but it'll be troublesome if Dublith burns down with us in it," Illya makes excuses for herself. "Minion Six, turn the car around!"

Ignoring the man's protests about her not using the perfectly good name his parents gave him, Illya connects to one of her familiars that should be circling above the city. After confirming that it still exists, she sends it to investigate the cause of the fire. Though the Zelle isn't much faster than a car, the fact that it can fly means it'll get there first regardless of where it starts.

The bird-shaped familiar reaches the center of the conflagration soon enough. To Illya's surprise, Halbring Matou is there. A unit of ten or so mages surround him, firing off spells of earth and fire. This is impressive as all magecraft outside the school of alchemy has been eradicated, and alchemy is completely unsuited for direct combat applications.

Well, it used to be. With this country heavily investing in the weaponization of alchemy, perhaps it's only natural that the local magi can use it for combat. The Magician girl finds it a little irritating. From the pre-desert knowledge she retained, only the best of the best could use alchemy for life or death battle. That there are ten guys making a claim of supremecy, no matter how indirect, makes her want to punish them.

After all, how could they possibly compare to Mama and her wire arts?

Illya smiles from having remembered something good.

"Chloe, prepare for combat. Halbring needs our help," she orders her maid sister using their functional telepathy.

Truthfully, Illya isn't exactly keen on engaging in combat with people that can harm her. However, alchemy and magi are far more familiar to her than master spearwomen. As long as she makes her preparations and doesn't goof off, she has little to fear.

Yes, she has reflected on her previous actions. She realizes that she needs combat training and an extra layer of protection. Doubly so if she's going to be running around as her own 'subordinates,' putting herself in danger for shits and giggles.

Fortunately, she has a plan for that. Unfortunately, it can't be implemented until she joins the military and ditches her guards. Until then she can't fearlessly goof off and play with her enemies as if they were toys.

"Wait, why are you listening to her?! She's a child! We're supposed to be keeping her safe!" Minion Five explodes.

"She's a direct apprentice of a State Alchemist," Minion Six responds dryly, "You remember what McDougal could do with a canteen of water, right?"

"What's this about McDougal?" Illya pops into the conversation, having heard literally nothing but the grizzled alchemist's name.

"Oh, uh..." Minion Six falters, not expecting her participation. "McDougal saved us from a fire a few months back. Terrorists. We were part of a VIP escort when they bombed our hotel. McDougal grabbed our canteens and used the water in them to keep us all alive until we got out."

"Oh. Neat," the tiny homunculus comments. She idly considers copying McDougal's transmutation circle for research. She's already studying Amestrian alchemy, might as well see what else she can do with it.

"So, how do you plan do to stop the fire?" Six asks quickly, hoping to get something from the alchemist before she loses interest and ignores them again.

"Simple," Illya responds cheerily. "I'm going to blow it up."

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern steps out onto the pavement with a frown on her face. The fire is larger than she thought. The aerial view of her Zelle was accurate, but things seem so much worse up close.

In front of her, towering alchemist-made walls of soil and stone help prevent the spread of the fire. Through the gaps, firemen and specially trained MPs work tirelessly to evacuate civilians from their burning homes. Husbands cry out for their wives, mothers cry out for their children, and children cry out for their parents. Even the few pet dogs and cats make sounds of longing and fear.

Illya turns her eyes to the rescue MPs as they come out from the gap, dragging along an unconsious little boy and a sobbing little girl. She can't hear them over the flames and the crowd, but it's obvious that the girl is reaching for the boy. They're probably siblings.

Just as the magus is about to turn her attention elsewhere, she sees the five-story hotel suddenly collapse behind them. The kids only just cleared the wall when the burning debris comes down to deny them. Without a skilled alchemist's intervention, the kids will most certainly die.

Before Illya can even open her circuits, however, the gap in the wall is swiftly closed off with alchemy.

The snow fairy of a girl follows the flow of matter and energy back to its source, which just so happens to be a woman with her hands pressed to the wall. The woman sports dreadlocks wrapped up in a ponytail, and blood drips from her chin. A mountainous man delicately supports her with clear worry.

Illya sees no transmutation circle. She doesn't sense a fake stone, and she didn't sense any Prana. That bleeding woman can't be a practitioner of Amestrian alchemy, but she also can't be a magus. Not unless she's either so good she doesn't need a circle, or is a magus that can hide her Prana emmissions.

As the self-declared best alchemist ever, Illya is intrigued.

The petite pair of master and maid trot up to the mysterious bleeding woman. They ignore the car peeling off as Minion Six goes to carry out Illya's instructions. Minion Five naturally trails behind them.

A closer look reveals nothing spectacular about their mystery alchemist. The woman's eyes are narrow, and not just because she's thinking hard on how to further help the rescue efforts. Additionally, both she and the giant of a man beside her have matching wedding rings.

"You're pretty good," Illya praises the bleeding woman. The taller of the two blinks, unsure of what to make of Illya's appraising eyes. They return to laser-like focus swiftly, however Illya has already turned to face the wall.

"I'm going to put out the fire, but to do that this exit needs to stay open and I need to get to the center of the circle," the homunculus girl informs them.

"What circle?" the married woman asks, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"That one. The wall," Illya's arm sweeps widely toward the object in question. "Maybe it's because it was made by alchemists, but it's a conveniently placed perfect circle. There are eight equadistant exits for rescue purposes that I'll be using to draw the interior, and will need sealed at the top to close the circle before activation."

"How can you tell?" the elder woman questions Illya's information.

"Talent," the homunculus replies seriously. The bloody woman searches Illya's eyes for falsehoods, but finds none.

Well, she isn't bloody anymore. Her husband was quite the gentleman, wordlessly lending his handkerchief so she can clean herself off. Illya makes sure to ignore the lovey-dovey couple's act since she has other things on her mind.

"... What do I need to do?" Mrs. Dreadlock-Ponytail eventually asks.

"I need you to help convince the other achlemists to keep the entrances open except for the top thirty centimeters," Illya instructs.

"Just the top? Why?"

"So I can draw in air underneath. You know, like a fireplace? I'll redistribute heat among the gasses, blow the heated air upwards and artificially create the pressure difference required for rain."

There's a moment of silence as the woman gauges Illya's words.

"That might actually work. How do you plan to get to the center?"

Illya opens her magic circuits. Illusions for the non-magi and wind barriers for the fire wrap the Einzberns. As an afterthought, she throws in another spell or two.

"I think I'll manage," Illya gives the tall woman an impish smile, then reaches toward the wall.

Images of alchemic lightning surrounds her, flowing across the towering stone barrier as Illya re-opens it with a dainty tap.

With a step, false electricity courses through the ground, commanding soil and rock to rise up and sweep aside the burning wreckage.

With another, the fire itself parts to allow her through.

Nothing can stop Illyasviel von Einzbern.

Of course, the married couple are still concerned. Despite Illya's reassurances and the near forgotten one-man military escort, the head Einzbern still looks like a child. Nevermind the fact that she performs alchemy with nothing but the tap of a finger or toe, she's an adorable little snow fairy! No respectable adult would let such a girl just walk into fire!

The giant muscle husband reaches out with his goodwill and great, meaty hands to stop the girls from doing anything foolish.

Unfortunately, his eyes have been fooled.

Illya lets out a breath of disappointment as the married couple watch illusory doubles of the Einzberns continue into the disaster area. She had been holding out hope that the tall woman was a magus who had learned to conceal Prana emmissions. A skill like that is invaluable to the current Illya, and she would be willing to take a few losses in order to learn it.

"Okay, let's go," the homunculoli says to her sister, ready to leave for real now.

"What about the witnesses?" Chloe replies curiously. She's not terribly worried since Illya usually has a plan. It's just that sometimes that reliable elder sister of hers is... a little less reliable when having fun.

Illya smirks as she walks past her tanned family member.

"Really, Chloe? If I can make two illusions then I can make three. It's not like I'm lacking Prana."

"Sorry," the maid apologizes, turning to follow. "I'm just still surprised you're so willing. Normally you just brush off people in trouble when it doesn't involve you with a, 'Haa? Why should I?' kind of feeling."

The conversation stalls for a second as Illya slowly starts Reinforcing herself, increasing her speed. Halbring doesn't have much time, after all. Regardless of how good he is as a Matou magus, he's being attacked by ten foes at once.

"It does involve me. We're in a give and take relationship with the Matous," Illya says once they've picked up speed. "In the hospital, Halbring saved your life. He could have used that fact to negotiate with me before, but he didn't. Either he's nicer than a magus should be, or he's saving it for later. Regardless, I don't want that hanging over our heads, so we're going to help him out and eliminate that favor early."

"And the fire?"

"It's bright and noisy. How am I supposed to sleep in this commotion? We have to be up early to catch a train," Illya grumbles her true feelings.

"Is... is that really it?" Chloe asks, unable to keep the hint of disappointment from her voice.

Illya mentally backpedals immediately. Disappointing her younger sister is inevitable, but making her little sister disappointed in her? That's different, and completely unacceptable.

"Um, well... there was a big fire like this once. Our big brother was orphaned in it," Illya rushes to make something up, only realizing what she said after the fact.

"Oh yeah! You said Onii-san is adopted, didn't you?" Chloe lets out a sigh of relief, followed shortly by a bright smile. "So you're doing it for Onii-san. I'm relieved. I was worried that you were doing dangerous things for a something unimportant again."

Illya doesn't reply right away. Trying to find out where the information about their brother came from is more important than retorting. Unfortunately, it takes little time for her to realize it has the same feeling as something read from a book. She didn't experience it first hand. Without some supplementary information, using it to retrieve lost memories will be incredibly difficult. What that supplement info is and whether she already knows it are matters that will have to be solved at another time.

"Anyway, is Matou-san still alive?" Chloe changes the subject, "He's been fighting ten opponents alone for at least fifteen minutes."

"Don't you worry about that," The elder Einzbern smiles with confidence. "A little birdy told me that it's all under control."

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is coming to help.

While that should bolster Halbring's spirits, he doesn't have the time to appreciate it. Between him and the enemy magi, not a single person could possibly fail to sense her movements. A powerhouse like Illyasviel joining the fray would be disastrous for his enemies, and they know it.

The magi intensify their assault instantly. Bullets of wind come flying, but Matou dodges them. Jets of flame lance out, but he reaches cover just in time. Whips of water grab at him, but stealthily thrown knives force their wielders to fall back.

While Halbring survives the exchange, more comes immediately after. He's already reaching the limits of his stamina and Prana reserves, so the increased aggression is wholly unwelcome. He only made it this long in the first place because his adversaries are unused to working on a team. If they could coordinated properly, he'd have been done in ages ago.

In the sanctity of his mind, he admits to himself that he won't make it until Illyasviel arrives. With the increased offensive, the most he can do is take one or two down with him. While the opponents aren't used to working on a team, none of them are green combatants. Especially those damned fire element magi! They're definitely veterans.

Matou slips behind a wind mage to prevent said fire magi from attacking. Though he doesn't know why they care about hitting allies when they're clearly not used to team dynamics, he'll continue using it to his advantage. He just needs to stall for time.

More streams of water come to grapple him from the side. Halbring deftly shoves the wind magus into them and starts running. A fistful of throwing knives prevents the earth magi from following for half a second, and that's all he needs to get behind new cover.

Fed up with his running and hiding, the earth magi break the ground. A twenty meter wide rupture reaches Matou's feet. It's not a new trick, but his exhaustion finally allows it to work. He loses his balance and falls over. Combined with his charred cover crumbling, Halbring is completely exposed.

Watery limbs finally get their tentacles on him. They wrap him up, lift him into the air, then slam him back into the dirt. With his face pressed into the ground, he feels the moment it begins to shift beneath him.

Halbring immediately twists with all his might. Doing so allows him to dodge a rising stone spike aimed at his chest, but after that he's spent. He doesn't have the stamina to pull another move like that.

The flame magi are already finished preparing their final, fatal spells, and he can't escape.

Just as he gets ready to bite the dust, a small flock of light-up wire birds suddenly appear above. Prana surges from them as they dive sharply at the enemy, coinciding perfectly with Illyasviel's output increasing. The enemy is forced to defend themselves or risk whatever secret dangers these clearly magical constructs hold.

Most of the earth and water magi decide to block rather than dodge, raising walls of heavy soil or withdrawing their water to make dense shields. The wind magi are already moving, and the flame magi turn their spells skyward. As a result, beams of heat fly up to intercept the incoming aerial attack.

The birds become streaks of light as they accelerate, corkscrewing around the searing death rays with surprising gentleness. Despite the display of extraordinary technical skill, two of them still fail to avoid the anti-air fire. They are destroyed in bursts of flame as a result.

Their dive speed is not to be underestimated, however. The avian wireframes arrive at their targets only moments later. Though they dodged the burning attack by only a narrow margin, they fly directly into the enemy defenses as if they don't matter.

Which they don't.

Not only do the falling star-like birds go straight through the walls, they also pass through the magi and disappear into the scorched earth. Half a second later, everything that their light touched slides downard. It has all been sliced cleanly apart.

The bodies hit the ground with a wet thud. It's a grotesque sound, but Halbring is a Matou and a soldier. He's used to it. In this particular instance, it's a relief. Those birds just halved the amount of enemies, and even got one of the fire mages.

The remaining enemy forces won't take this lying down, of course. No one wants to die. However, the birds have buried themselves in the earth. There's no target for retaliation, which is probably for the best. They have an objective that they need to complete before Illya gets there and wrecks them.

Unfortunately, the enemy magi find themselves woefully mistaken. Moments after shifting their attention to Matou, the wire birds fly back _out_ of the ground to make another attempt on their lives. The two wind mages manage to dodge, partially due to their superb reflexes and partially due to the razor birds' failure to aim. The constructs' accuracy going down is likely because they can't see through solid matter.

When they realize that only one bird came after each of them and seek out their allies, it's already too late. The flame mages were all double teamed and made into a mess of limbs on the floor. Naturally, the last pair of magi decide to run since they value their lives.

It's too bad Illya has no intention of letting them get away.

Though they darted off in different directions, Illya's Prana output increases and another set of birds suddenly appear in front of them. Since the previous birds split to chase, each magus is now surrounded by six glowing bird wireframes. Cold sweat trails down their necks. It's because two more birds were destroyed by the last actions of the flame magi that they felt escaping was a viable option in the first place. Now they're surrounded.

They harden their resolve quickly, however. After all, they're wind element battle magi. They've trained to transmute gasses in all sorts of ways. It's only to be expected that they're fast, and they plan to take advantage of that. Using small tricks to control the wind, they can increase their speed and maneuverability to inhuman levels. They can outrace horses, cars, and most certainly those wire birds.

Light is a different story, though.

The birds suddenly discharge energy to create an intense, all-encompassing flash. The fleeing magi don't panic, but the suddenness of their blindness makes them stop to confirm their position. It only takes them a second to regain their bearings, but that's all Illya needs. There are far more razor birds than targets, and air certainly isn't going to slow birds that can ignore stone.

Suffice to say, the fight is over.

Back by seaweed head, Illya stands triumphant. She sticks out her chest proudly with her hands on her hips, a bragging smile on her lips. Her childishness is absolutely adorable, as well as completely unbecoming of a twenty year old woman.

The question of whether she counts as an adult due to her form and amnesia has long been buried at sea.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but _what the hell was that?!_ " Halbring shouts, somehow being reinvigorated by Illya's nonsensical display of deadly force.

"Hm? Are you saying familiars of that level are unusual?" Illya brags shamelessly, preening under the attention and awe.

"You know damn well that they aren't! Those... razor light bird things cut straight through walls of solid stone half a meter thick! Shields of pressurized water did jack shit against them! What the hell?!"

"Wait, you really can't tell? Come on, I only used some Alteration and Reinforcement," Illya playfully mocks him with a half-truth.

After all, there _is_ a small trick. Those Zelle were made for combat but fueled for stealth. Illya gave them just enough Prana to get close and then report that they'd done so. The Zelle were then remotely pumped full of Prana, and the rest is history.

It's too bad that convenient technique can't be used for Chloe. The girl doesn't have a soul for receiving the energy transmission, so the transmission vector would be her hair. The excess Prana would fry her brain before her Galvanic Circuits could absorb it.

"Bullshit!" he replies, not convinced at all. "Those spells may be basic and free-form enough to lack standard limitations, but nothing that simple could let wire move through the ground as if it were air!"

The Matou magus brings up a good point, but this time he's mistaken. First, it isn't wire. It's Illya's hair. Second, when you're as skilled as her it's totally possible. Alteration is all you need to make a hair only a few molecules thick, and Reinforcement is all you need to make sure it doesn't break when running into its targets. Calling these Zelle razor birds is surprisingly accurate.

The True Magician is actually quite proud of her creations. After the fiasco at the auction, this was one of the many ways she thought up to increase her battle power. It was the easiest to test and implement too, so naturally it's the first to debut.

That said, it isn't like they're complete products yet either.

"Whether you believe me or not doesn't really matter, but are you sure you want to treat me like that?" Illya flips her hair over her shoulder, looking like a proper fearsome and arrogant noble with the demure maid at her side and raging flames behind her.

From his place on the ground, Halbring tries not to feel overwhelmed. Illya's massive Prana output presses down on his weakened self. The way she stands above him with a domineering attitude on full display, her overwhelming power smothering him while she looks down at his helpless self...

He reminds himself that Illya's a child, allowing his rational self to regain control. Regardless of his preferences, children are off limits. Even a Matou has to have standards... right?

Halbring returns to his senses just in time to find Illya pausing for dramatic effect at the end of a monologue.

"I am Illyasviel von Einzbern, Master of Northern Alchemy!" she finally declares, taking her Arbitrator introduction pose.

The re-appearance of her J-star pose completely destroys what little tension there was left.

The inheritor of the Matou family hairstyle can't help it. He rests his arm across his eyes, not wanting to look at her anymore. First she's ridiculous, then domineering, and then ridiculous again. Where's that adorable girl from the hospital room?

Well, it turns out she's a weirdo with a few screws loose. That obviously means she's a proper magus. Whatever was done to make her so powerful is an entire other matter.

"Where are your escorts?" he sighs and changes the subject, knowing she won't give up the secrets of her craft.

"Escorts? Oh! You mean the Minions!" Illya claps in recognition. "I sent them away to take care of some other stuff."

"Don't hypnotize your escorts," he groans while reprimands her, sounding just as spent as he looks. "They're officers. They're not low ranking enough that taking orders from civilians will go overlooked."

"It's fine," Illya waves it off. "They're out making sure my plan to put out the fire works."

"You actually have a plan?" Halbring asks skeptically.

"How rude! Of course I have a plan!" the Einzbern head puffs out her cheeks cutely. "Chloe, go ahead and pick him up. It looks like he can't walk on his own."

"'How rude' yourself! That's something you ask first, even if it's obvious!" Matou throws out a second wind of retorts as the maid lifts him off the ground. Whatever he was going to say next is cut off by being thrown over the tanned girl's shoulder. In his dizzy and exhausted state, it's enough to make him pause so he can get his breathing back under control.

Illya opens her mouth to return fire at the opening, but he waves a hand lethargically to cut her off.

"Whatever, what's your plan?"

"I'm going to make it rain," she states as if it's entirely normal.

Matou waits five seconds before he closes his eyes and lets out a long suffering sigh.

"Okay. Sure. _How?_ " he rolls with it, exasperation clear in his voice. "You're in the middle of the disaster area. If you wanted to make it rain, wouldn't you go to the lake?"

"No. Go read up on forest fires and meteorology when you get back," Illya frowns, her attention split between talking and watching the situation with her Zelle.

"Meteorology? Er..." Matou hesitates.

"What?" Illya responds tauntingly on reflex. "Do you not know what it is?"

"I'm a State Alchemist! Of course I know what meteorology is!" Halbring snaps, "I just don't know when you had the time to learn it yourself!"

Illya doesn't respond. Truth be told, she never had the time to learn about weather and its intricacies. It was installed against her will!

Why her ancestors thought to make a weather control spell but not sunscreen is a mystery, but since it's useful Illya decides to ignore it for now. Otherwise she'll end up complaining about it for hours. She's already booked to capacity with complaints about everything else going on in her life, and any more would throw off her time-table.

"How much longer, Onee-san?" Chloe asks anxiously. The maid is, understandably, not keen on staying here. They're surrounded by fire, and fire is bad.

"Two or three minutes," Illya reports. "That bleeding lady borrowed a car, so she'll probably take care of the last gate by the time Minion Five gets there."

"I see, so I have two minutes. Thank you."

Everyone's attention is immediately stolen by the courteous voice of an unknown woman. Her clothing is conservative, consisting of little more than a nun's habit and headdress. Her skin is pale, her lips plush, and her eyes a familiar red.

In her raised hand is a lit torch, and from her neck hangs a Flamel instead of a cross.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 14**


	21. Ch018 - Heaven's Feel 14

**A/N: A few days late. Still getting back into the swing of things. Grr.**

 **No, the flow of this one doesn't feel quite right either. Grr.**

 **By the way, a US ton is a short ton, equal to 2000 pounds. A British ton is a long ton, equal 2240 pounds. A tonne is a metric ton, equal to 1000 kilograms, approximately 2204.6 pounds. A 2m by 2m by 100m column of even the lightest soils would be... very very heavy.**

 **... Grr.**

 **EDIT [2/28/2018]: Chapter reworked from second scene onward. Frankly, I got too caught up in a scene that was real exciting in my head... but doesn't fit into the story right now. Frankly, it was pretty OOC for Illya. It needs more work, and would throw off my plans terribly. Word of warning, this is what happens when you write when you should be sleeping.**

* * *

 **Reviews:**

 **shelwyn [Ch017, 1/15/2018]: Ships...? Honestly, I haven't even thought about it. I just thought it was funny.**

 **Amatsumi [Ch017, 1/16/2018]: Nope. Jerk magus grandpa.**

 **a crashclown [Ch017, 1/16/2018]: Sorry for taking so long... again! Thanks for your support! I always appreciate it! =D**

 **PasiveNox [Ch000-Ch009, 1/17/2018]: That's a lot of reviews. Whoa. Thanks! ... Though I'm not sure why you stopped at Heaven's Feel 05 specifically. =3**

 **JackFrost14 [Ch017, 1/18/2018]: Will do~!**

 **sonic [Ch017, 1/19/2018]: I'm glad! Here's hoping you like this one too!**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch 018

Heaven's Feel 14

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern, I hear you're the head of the Einzbern clan," the Flamel nun starts conversationally. "Does that mean you're stronger than Moon Princess Saver?"

Illya almost does a double take. Unlike Matou and the higher ups of the military, it seems the Flamel group hasn't found out the truth. They still think that Saver is one of her subordinates like Arbitrator.

Saver, who was the main contributor in Temperance's defeat.

"Would you like to find out?" Illya feigns confidence. Magi she can take no problem. Flamel homunculi are a different story.

Then again, is this woman a homunculus or just one of their lackeys? She's covered from head to toe so Illya can't see if she has a tattoo. The rosary dangling from the nun's neck clearly tells of her allegiance, but not her rank.

"Not really," the Flamel woman smiles gently. "It's just that if you're any weaker than than Saver, killing you will be a kindness."

Well, there's really only one course of action to take from here.

Illya's circuits flare with power, drawing up the earth to encase the nun in a box of packed dirt. Not wanting to give her enemy a chance to escape like Temperance did, she promptly makes the box fall a hundred meters underground like a demented elevator. She makes sure to let the momentum of the soil continue downward when the box reaches the bottom, crushing the nun with a column of dirt weighing over a hundred tonnes.

The tiny homunculus scans the area with all her senses. She doesn't want any surprises. Surprises are usually bad.

Not finding any signs of lift, she goes and relaxes her guard. As soon as she does, the flames clinging to a nearby house jump out at her! In the short distance it travels, the fire morphs into a bear with terrifying presence!

Even though this is clearly some form of magecraft, it still normally wouldn't be an issue for Illya with her wind barrier up. However, the flames somehow bypass it without slowing a bit. Not only that, but the bear lights it on fire as it pass through!

Truly, what comes around goes around.

Illya cancels the wind barrier before she's burnt alive by her own spell, but that doesn't stop the flame creature trying to tackle her. Fortunately, Chloe is quick on the uptake and pulls her out of the way. From his spot over the maid's shoulder, Matou sees something that the girls don't.

"Get down!" he shouts, his warning allowing the girls just enough time to duck underneath a claw of fire as it sweeps to take their heads.

The Einzberns spin around to find the nun behind them again. The bearer of torch and Flamel is seven meters from where they last saw her, but otherwise completely unaffected by Illya's deadly offensive. Not a hair is out of place, and her habit is unharmed. There isn't even a trace of sweat.

Seeing her first attack didn't work, Illya decisively chooses to flee. She elevators herself and allies downward, not bothering to form the box. The sealing the shaft as they go beneath ground level serves well enough. She immediately starts looking through the eyes of her Zelle once they come to a stop.

The Razor Zelle don't have much longer due to the heat, but there's more than enough time to kill off the nun.

The birds do a flyby, cutting the religious woman to ribbons. Blood splatters across the floor, her pieces landing to create puddles her red fluid. The nun is dead.

"Onee-san?"

"Limited air. Don't talk."

Illya waits, watching the area with the nun's corpse to make sure there are no tricks. The Flamel can get a hold of Remnants of Salsburg, which are apparently nonsensically powerful. Illya doesn't want to be caught off guard if this nun also has something like that.

Two minutes pass. The walls have been altered as instructed. The nun is still dead.

"I'm going up. I'll start the formalcraft circle and come back. Then we'll go," she says decisively, astralizing the moment she's done.

Illya floats through the ground with practiced ease. She checks her familiars again. Nun is still dead, so the tiny homunculus pokes her head out of the ground.

A claw of flame wraps around that head and crushes it.

At least, it would if Illya wasn't incorporeal. The attack phases through the magus, but it surprises her enough to duck back into the earth. She closes her red eyes and takes a deep breath to calm herself.

This may be harder than she initially thought.

Illya looks through the eyes of her Zelle again. The fire attacks came from a burning vehicle off to the right. The nun is standing off to the left, the side opposite of that. It was the same with the bear.

Can the nun only control fire that already exists, or is she falsifying her position using some sort of heat mirage technique? Illya hasn't sensed any Prana from the nun, so it's probably Amestrian alchemy. If so, then a mirage sounds more likely. There could be a strange mystic code involved, however. If that's the case then it could be either, or maybe both.

The Flamel woman can also see astralized beings. What kind of ability is that? It isn't like Illya is merely invisible. She turned her material body back into a spiritual body. In this form there's no physical presense to be sensed, and Prana leakage drops to almost nothing. There's no divination spells for spiritual beings either, so how is that nun seeing Illya?

After taking a moment to think, she commands some of her Zelle to dive into the ground. From there she has them move to surround the Flamel woman. When they next rise, Illya rises with them.

All six of her.

Unfortunately, the nun sees through the illusions immediately. With a flick of her wrist, a serpent of fire charges from the torch toward the real Illya. It wraps around the white-haired girl in no time.

The True Magician doesn't stick around to see if it might actually works this time. She drops back through the ground and pouts. The Zelle rush forward and slice up the nun at her command, but this time Illya's sure the flame user is still alive.

The woman can see through illusions. She can see spiritual bodies too. What kind of weird power is this? For that matter, is it even really sight?

Illya wasn't able to determine if it was a mystic code that time either.

"The real problem," Illya thinks aloud, which is not actually aloud due to her lacking a physical being to make sound with, "is that I can't materialize without getting set on fire. Her reflexes are good, and I can't confirm her position while she's constantly aware of mine. Plus, the wind barrier doesn't work."

That was a major surprise. Not only did it pass through, it turned her defense against her! Illya has zero intentions of letting it happen again.

"No, wait... It makes perfect sense that she can tell where I am. She's a nun. She's probably an exorcist ex-member of the Church," the pale girl frowns as she ponders the situation. "Maybe even a current member if the Flamel group has the kind of connections needed for a criminal empire. If she's good enough to be recruited by the Flamel, then she probably has the skill to sense spirits."

With a resigned sigh, Illya drops back down to her underground safety box and rematerializes. She can't see in the dark like Chloe can, so she connects her vision to her maid on the way to make sure she lands correctly. She almost ends up leaving a footprint on Halbring's unconscious body, but avoids stepping on him at the last second.

"Onee-san! Don't disappear like that! I was worried!" Chloe cries upon seeing her sister, flinging her arms around the pale skinned girl without a moment's thought.

"Sorry," Illya smiles sheepishly, gently returning the too-tight hug. "Let me breathe?"

"Matou's unconscious!" the tanned girl lets some slack into her grip.

"Yeah, he's had a bad day," Illya nods. "Besides, that's probably for the best. He's going to be mad when he wakes up."

"Huh? Why?" the maid tilts her head adorably. Illya would consider it quite a treat if she could see in the dark from her own eyes.

"Oh, well... You know, because," Illya smiles, not answering the question.

"Because why?"

The elder homunculus then closes her eyes and takes a calming breath. Green light floods the tiny space as she opens her circuits. The earth trembles by her terrible might.

"... Onee-san?"

The world shakes. The rock screams. The soil surrounding them on all sides buckles and snaps.

"Onee-san?!"

Illya's eyes are narrowed in concentration. The box suddenly straightens out and shoots sideways, the acceleration taking Chloe by surprise. Halbring's body rolls into the corner.

"Onee-san!"

Just as quickly as it started, the box comes to a sudden stop. Halbring is flung to the opposite wall before the stunned maid can catch him. Not a moment later the box begins flying upward.

" _Nee-san why?!_ "

The box once more comes to a jerking halt. Chloe manages to prevent Matou from flying off this time with her superhuman strength, but when she turns her gaze back to her green glowing sister for answers she only ends up more confused. Her young eyes spin with questions.

Why is everything shaking and zooming? Why didn't Onee-san go flying too? Why is Onee-san still glowing? Is the bad lady gone? Why is everyone in Dublith trying to kill them?

"Okay, I'm done," Illya declares. "Let's get out of here. It's going to start raining soon."

"H-huh? Wait!" Chloe cries out, too late to stop Illya from opening a doorway before them. "What about the-"

Her voice catches in her throat when she sees what lay beyond. Their box had become part of a tall tower, their feet level with the firebreak wall encircling the area. Flames still roar madly in the night, lighting up the dark sky that quickly grows heavy with rain.

That is, except for anywhere within three hundred meters of the tower.

The area has been flattened- no, turned into a crater. Buildings, vehicles, and streetlamps alike have all vanished from the surface of the earth. Not even a cobblestone or shard of glass remains.

"Onee-san," Chloe says breathlessly, "what did you do?"

"Hm? Oh, I couldn't figure out where the enemy was so I just sunk everything," Illya replies casually. "Crushed it and ground it up just to make sure."

"Did you check for survivors first?" the maid asks fearfully, a heavy weight starting to settle in her stomach.

In her heart, Illya has always been a righteous figure. She wouldn't put innocent bystanders in the way. Sometime she would even rescue them, like at the slave market.

However, this time Illya didn't seem to bother with it at all.

"Don't be silly. Of course I did," Illya reassures her. "I can generally sense souls. It's harder to sense the living, but there were so few people here that I doubt I could have missed any survivors."

"Then... no innocent people got hurt," Chloe sighs with relief.

"That's right," Illya lies through her teeth. "No one died but the nun."

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern enters the hotel room with a yawn, maid and minions trailing behind her. She had almost forgotten about Minion Five in the fire, but Chloe was concerned enough to reminded her. The man had to have his memories altered since there wasn't a good way to do the trade off between the real and illusory Einzberns, but it wasn't anything difficult.

No, the difficult part was leaving Matou behind without chatting up the other alchemists in the area. While Illya would love to pick their brains, especially that bleeding mouth woman, they would definitely ask more about how she made it rain. After all, transmutation circles can't be made with alchemy using Amestrian methods.

"Ms. Einzbern," Seraphy's voice cuts through her musings, "I believe we need to talk."

Illya looks at the redhead, the strange calm surrounding him setting off warning bells. She's never seen him like this before. Her brows furrow in thought, then become loose with surprise when she realizes what's wrong.

Seraphy's _pissed_. Why he's pissed doesn't matter, just that he is and is about to lecture like never before. The way his jaw is clenched promises _words_. So, so many words.

Illya doesn't want to deal with it. It's late, and getting lectured by a person younger than her is always weird. Getting lectured by a man who she's threatened to murder multiple times is even weirder, though it does speak well of his character.

Not only that, but she didn't even do anything wrong this time! It isn't like the time she broke the streetlamps, or the time where she killed Marcoh's rose bushes! Those were accidents, anyway!

Still, Seraphy's a logical young man. He doesn't let his emotions control him often. Even now he's clearly showing restraint.

What could upset him so much?

Illya's eyes dart around the room for a reason. Seraphy is sitting at the coffee table. Minions One and Two are with him, the latter shifting his weight back and forth. Corniche... isn't in bed.

"Where's Corniche?" Illya asks, hoping the child hasn't been abducted. It would certainly make the elder red-head mad, but it'd also be a huge pain to deal with. She wouldn't be able to abandon the girl with Chloe watching, either.

"With Joel and Penny in the other room, sleeping soundly. Cameron, Zach, you can go rest now. Thank you for your service, and sorry for the trouble," Seraphy remarks calmly, nodding at Minions Five and Six. They nod back, glad someone is actually using their names, and turn to do as he suggested. Illya turns to leave after them-

" _Not you_ young lady," Seraphy's icy tones freeze her in place. "Chloe, could you please bring your sister over here?"

Chloe doesn't hesitate. She picks Illya up above her head and brings her to the couch. The head of the Einzbern family is placed on the seat opposite Seraphy with surprising gentleness, but the maid's strong grip doesn't allow her to escape.

"Chloe you traitor!" Illya thrashes, for some reason not just astralizing and running away.

"Illya," Seraphy speaks again, his tone somehow freezing her in place once more. His gaze meets hers, and she finds it intense enough to make a blind man turn away.

It's all very impressive. Underneath the strange mental paralysis his behavior induces, she fully intends to learn how to do that. Hopefully it's not an older brother thing. She's never been a boy before.

"Yes?" Illya finally finds her voice. Unfortunately, it's the voice of a child being scolded. In the depths of her heart she sheds tears of embarrassment. Even though she has less than a year of memories and the body of a child, she's still twenty years old!

Funny how she only remembers that when it's convenient.

"You promised to come back immediately after your business meeting," the teenage genius states, continuing his alarming calm.

"I did," she agrees.

"It's half an hour past the latest you should have been in," he continues.

Illya glances at the clock and does some mental math.

"It is."

" _Why?_ " he implores, his tone a barely contained mix of rage, disappointment, and worry.

Illya looks him in the eye and sees steel. It's cold. It's hot. It's hard to understand, and strangely familiar.

"I went to go put out the fire," Illya shrugs as she tears her eyes away, finally regaining her bearings. "Why, is that bad?"

"No- Yes- Damn it, Illya!" the red-head roars. "This isn't about good or bad! You could have been seriously hurt!"

"I could have," she agrees simply. "However, that's nothing new."

Both Chloe and Seraphy go still. Illya's words are a subtle reminder, one that Seraphy doesn't miss. _A magus walks hand in hand with death._ Even if they don't like it, death is Illya's constant companion. Death will hover over Illya even more than her personal maid.

Chloe just doesn't like that Illya's always in danger.

It isn't like they can debate it right now either. The minions are here, and those two don't know about the Moonlit World. The topic will have to be dropped and then Illya can go to bed.

Unless Chloe hypnotizes the guards to not notice anything, like she's doing right now.

Seraphy sees the flash of light from Chloe's eyes and, for a moment, fears that this is where he gets disposed of. Then he notices that one of the soldiers has stopped bouncing back and forth. He immediately realizes that it's similar to what happened in the clothing store.

"... You said you couldn't do that," Seraphy accuses.

"I said _I_ can't do that," Illya raises a finger to point out the technicality. "I wasn't going to tell you until we got back to Central. For your peace of mind."

"My peace of mind? Maybe you should have thought about that before you rushed headlong into _more danger_ ," he bites out quietly. "Did you stop to think about what would happen to Chloe? You know she'll follow you anywhere."

"I did. I scouted out the situation beforehand, and judged it wasn't an issue," Illya folds her hands on her lap. Seraphy's eyes narrow. He glances up to meet Chloe's eyes, then returns his gaze to the troublemaker.

"No. It must have been dangerous, even for you. Otherwise Chloe wouldn't be restraining you to get lectured," Seraphy denies after a moment of thought. "If I take the claims of you being invulnerable to gunfire as truth, then a great fire is no threat. Between your skill as an alchemist and Chloe's strength, collapsing buildings aren't a problem either. I've seen you forget smoke is supposed to make you cough, and high temperatures only make you uncomfortable. So, who or what was it that was so dangerous?"

"I don't recall ever saying I can brush off bullets," Illya frowns.

"No, but you brought me into the Moonlit World. Your sister told me all about it when I asked."

Illya opens her mouth to retort, to say something that would make Seraphy put this off until after she's gotten some sleep. He sees this and continues talking, somehow managing to time it so that he's not actually interrupting yet still cutting her off. It's impressive.

She remembers that he did this last time as well and realizes she needs to start thinking of countermeasures. He might start winning arguments with her more often, and she can't have that. It would be completely ridiculous.

"When you offered to bring me into the Moonlit World a few days ago, you said that it was because you trusted me. When you brought me into it a few nights ago, you made sure I knew the risks and I still accepted. So, again, who or what was it that made this trip so dangerous?"

"We still don't have any way to stop you from talking if the enemy gets a hold of you," Illya denies coldy. Flashpoint hypnosis uses light, so sunglasses would work as a stopgap measure. However, Tigerlily is most likely experienced enough that she can get her hypnosis through regardless of polarization. This, of course, assumes she doesn't just knock the glasses off her target's face first.

"Onee-san, does this really need to be kept secret?" Chloe pleads softly.

"... I suppose not," the elder sister sighs. "If anything, every magus in the country will know by the end of the week."

"They will?" Seraphy asks, startled.

"They will," she nods. "I used a lot of power. They'll definitely look into it, and definitely find out it was me."

The red head works his jaw as he lets out a long suffering sigh.

"Okay. Sure. Fine," he resigns himself since nothing can be done about it. "Back on topic, what was so dangerous that your sister had to report you?"

"There was a fire using nun that could make mirages and hide her Prana, if she had any," Illya replies casually.

"Who she went off to fight _by herself_ ," Chloe adds with a surprising amount of anger.

"Chloe, she could control flames and we were in a _giant pit of fire_ ," Illya shoots back after a sigh of exasperation. "Even if you don't like it, I'm your older sister. It's my responsibility to keep you alive."

Seraphy hates how it's 'alive' and not 'safe.'

"Illya, I was born to protect you!" the tanned girl barely stops herself from shouting, her hands tight on Illya's small shoulders. "Just because your regeneration is better than mine-!"

"Chloe," the magus warns her sister calmly.

"I could have helped! My hearing is better! Even if you couldn't sense her, I could have-"

"Chloe, calm down."

"The spear crazy was fast! The nun was fast! I'm fast! You're not fast! what if-"

"Chloe! Stop, that's an order!"

Chloe stops, but only because a proper maid refusing a direct order from her mistress is ridiculous. Her hands are still gripping Illya far too tightly, and her breathing is erratic. Her eyes dilate uncontrollably and churn wildly with madness.

"Chloe, I have my reasons for doing what I did, which I'll explain once we're alone," Illya states firmly to calm her sister down. "For now, good job holding it in until we reached a safer location. A maid must keep decorum in public."

The minions blink, the hypnotic trance they'd been under fading with Chloe's loss of control. Before they can make a sound, Illya makes silent shushing faces at them. They look at Chloe, then to Seraphy for confirmation since he's a certified doctor.

He can only nod. After all, he doesn't know what's happening but Illya seems to be in control. She also seems to be in pain, even if she's covering it up.

Seraphy closes his eyes while Illya comforts Chloe. He doesn't want to be hypnotized into forgetting, and it's clear that Chloe's the one doing it now. Plus, he needs to quickly sort his thoughts.

From what he's seen and heard so far, Chloe's outburst definitely has something to do with how the girls have been altered with alchemy. Where else could the madness in Chloe's eyes come from? If she's using her 'intended purpose' as a crutch to withstand the trauma of human transmutation, then it all makes sense. She herself claimed to have been born to protect her sister. Of course she'd lose it if Illya left her behind. She can't fulfill her purpose if her target of protection isn't even around.

He ponders over what he can he do about it, and finds that it is currently nothing. He still doesn't know enough about their conditions to even think about it. Even if he could help somehow, he's not sure he wants to. Though his conscious demands it and his rational mind reluctantly agrees that it's the best course of action, things are still too uncertain. He doesn't want to bet Corniche's future or Marcoh's life on a long shot.

Seraphy's smart enough to realize that it's too late to back out now, though. Illya surely has plans for him. He's been prepared for that from the moment he decided to get involved. He'll use those plans to learn as much about the Moonlit World as possible, then turn that knowledge into a way to better protect his family.

All the damn waiting makes him nervous, though.

When Seraphy dares open his eyes again, the tanned maid girl is still slowly regaining control of herself. She's been pulled close as Illya whispers soothing words in her ear. There's no doubt in his mind that the guards will be getting their memories of this wiped once Chloe's herself again.

A helpless sigh escapes the man's lips.

"Seraphy," Illya draws his attention in response to his tired breath. "It's late. Unless it's so urgent that it needs to be taken care of immediately, it can wait until we get back to Central."

Seraphy presses his lips together. He's made most of his complaints quite clear, not that Illya cares. She's convinced of her own logic.

"Just one last thing, since I have no idea when you'll make more trouble."

"I don't make troubl- oh, fine. I'm listening," Illya rolls her eyes at his half-hearted glare.

"Next time your plans change, let me know," he requests. "I know you can."

"I... can't promise anything other that I'll try," Illya hesitates, then ultimately compromises. "Depending on the situation, I might not be able to."

"Do you?" Seraphy presses. "Do you promise to try?"

The pale girl looks him in the eyes. She sees steel. It's hot. It's cold. It's familiar, and she doesn't really understand it.

"Yes," Illya smiles, "but expect to be worked to the bone for this."

* * *

"Illyasviel von Einzbern has been quite the useful pawn, wouldn't you say?" Envy's androgynous voice fills the poorly furnished room.

The lights are on this time, yet his usual form is nowhere to be seen. Lust, a dark haired woman with extraordinary proportions, leans against the only table. The round-bodied Gluttony stares vacantly at a wall from his place on the floor next to her.

Against that wall leans a broad shouldered, golden eyed, red headed teen.

"More like dangerous," the female homunculus scoffs. "Though you'd know that if you actually read the report."

"Psh! We were going to kill one of the the old bitch's kids anyway! The brat just made it easier!" Envy's vulgar gloating comes from the redhead's mouth.

Lust sighs. This fool...

"Yes, but our target was Patience, not Temperance," she replies testily. "And get out of that form. You know I hate red hair."

"Oo~ I'm so scared," he taunts, his body shifting to become more androgynous. Blocks of flesh and bolts of lightning travel up his form, turns shoes into stirrup socks and pants into spats with a side tied waist cover-up. The long sleeve shirt turns into a strange mix between a sports bra and a tank top, as well as a pair of fingerless gloves that don't even bother with the knuckles. Every inch of his clothing is a cold black.

Though his apparent age doesn't change much, his shoulders become less broad. His face becomes less angular, his eyes turn mauve, and his hair splays out like the leaves of a black palm tree. The smug, infuriating grin that appears on his face is perhaps his most identifying feature.

"Anyway, I didn't know you took part in the operation, Lust. Wouldn't that put the plan at risk? The brat can sense souls," Envy stretches casually, as if getting their plans ruined wouldn't be a big deal.

"I didn't," she informs him with clear annoyance.

"Huh? Then how'd the spear bitch die? You're the only one that get through her stupid armor!" he shoots her an odd look, his face twisted in disbelief and confusion.

"Take a guess," Lust dryly chides him.

"... No way! The brat?!"

"If you'd _read the report_ ," she shoots Envy another annoyed glare, "then you'd know she's powerful enough to change the weather in under ten minutes."

"What? I don't believe you! Gimme that thing!" the androgynous homunculus stomps over to snatch the folder on the table.

Lust doesn't move from her spot, only letting out a sigh of exasperation as her 'sibling' finally does what he should have in the first place. She pats Gluttony on the head absentmindedly while she waits for Envy to finish and ponders her next course of action. Her last assignment faced some interference from Diligence, but she did finish it. She's earned some down time between assignments.

Maybe she should find herself a good man? She did lose a life against the Flamel warrior. It would be good to replenish her Stone before she's sent out again.

"Ha ha! She showed off, then disguised it as alchemy!" Envy cries out hysterically. "How hilarious! She's _trying_ to become a State Alchemist! She'll get access to military resources, and we get greater control over her without her even knowing!"

"Yes, doesn't it fit perfectly with the cover story she's given us?" Lust frowns chillingly. "The military secrets and intelligence network are perfect for her goals of 'learning alchemy' and 'finding her missing family.' If Illyasviel is an infiltrator, then she's quite skillful."

"The brat helped kill Temperance. She probably doesn't belong to _that woman_ ," the teen-like homunculus objects.

"That doesn't matter if she was going to replace Temperance anyway," the busty lady raises a brow.

"Right, the brat's a good fit for one of the Virtues," the teen-like homunculus grimaces. "Plus, the old bitch's got way more Remnants than us somehow."

There's no need or desire for him to explain. Excluding Temperance, the Flamel group still has at least four powerful Remnants of Salsburg. Kindness, Chastity, and Diligence are each equipped with one, while the current Charity _is_ one. It would be odd for _that woman_ to somehow obtain another out of nowhere, but not unbelievable. It's happened before.

Suddenly, the room dims.

"Lust, you have a new assignment," Pride's voice echoes from all around. "Envy, you're taking care of Gluttony for the foreseeable future."

Both homunculi blink in surprise and annoyance, but don't voice their objections. Pride likes handing out orders. Better to just get it over with so they can move on to their own activities.

"What's the job?" the bosomy woman asks as shadows begin to fill the room, crawling from the entrance and covering everything.

"Illyasviel has been reported to tolerate the lectures of Marcoh's live-in apprentice. Considering her attitude toward anyone who isn't her immediate family, Wrath thinks it might be significant. See if this 'Seraphy' knows anything. With someone of Illya's caliber, we can't be too careful."

The tendrils of darkness creep up the table the three homunculi are gathered around. Just when it looks like one might touch Lust's hand, it recedes. Quietly as they came, the shadows slip from the room, unwilling to stick around. Pride said everything he had to say.

On the table is a new folder. It sits near Lust's gloved hand, left behind by their older 'sibling.'

"'Illya,' huh? Think Pride's got a crush?" Envy grins at his fellow homunculus. "They look about the same age."

"Don't be stupid, Envy. He doesn't have the heart needed for that," she shakes her head. "If he did, he'd give me the break I've earned."

"Oh quit whining!" the androgynous being gripes. "I'm taking care of Gluttony now, so your work just got five times easier!"

"Lust?" Gluttony looks up at her with childish anxiety. "Am I in the way?"

"Yes," the palm tree insults him.

"No, Envy just likes to complain," Lust smiles, ignoring Envy as. "Behave yourself while you're with him, okay?"

"Okay Lust!" he nods, satisfied.

Lust nods back, then picks up the new folder and flips it open. Like she expected, it's the portfolio of her next target. She begins to scan the page, but stops the moment she sees the clipped-on picture.

"Damn it," she frowns. "A red head."

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 15**

 **Then: Freezing 04**

 **McDougal focused arc beginning on Freezing 04. Planned to run anywhere between 5 and 10 chapters. As with all things in life, may involve giant robots.**

 **EDIT [3/1/2018]: Due to re-working the latter two sections of the chapter, Freezing Arc may be pushed back. It might not happen, or be delayed as far as five chapters. Let me know if it's something you're looking forward to. I suspect people will be mad about the change, but I want to write me some McDougal-Frankenstein stuff. Illya won't be doing anything important during the Freezing Arc anyway.**


	22. Ch019 - Heaven's Feel 15

**A/N: So, I re-read Ch018 a while after posting. I frowned. I re-worked it since it wasn't really what I wanted.**

 **Sorry for the long delay. I had to plan out three new chapters. Also, I got distracted by a new series. Then I got distracted by an old series. Now it's Finals cruch time.**

 **... Whoops.**

 **Anyway, enjoy the first of three transition chapters! ... Though I guess nothing really happens and the ending is a little weak, I worked hard on it!**

 **On that note, do people prefer these longer chapters or my shorter chapters? I can try to do a 2000-3000 word chapters twice a month like before, or one of these 5000+ once a month or two. The latter take longer due to needing more editing and thought, but I'm hoping they're of higher quality as well as content.**

* * *

 **Reviews:**

 **shelwyn [Ch018 [Pre-EDIT], 2/7/2018]: ... *sigh* I noticed. Thanks for pointing it out, though. I very much adore internal consistency, so when I can't uphold it myself... ugh.**

* * *

Heaven's/Feel Alchemist - Ch 019

Heaven's Feel 15

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is incomprehensible. If it isn't her enigmatic background, then it's her mysterious words. If it isn't her mysterious words, it's her puzzling actions. Sure, there are some half-way decent explanations for it all, but even those are vague and unsatisfactory.

Plus, sometimes she gets... weird.

"Now strip."

"Eh!? Onee-san!? Isn't that too sudden?!"

Like right now.

"You might be dressed for the occasion," Seraphy frowns disapprovingly, "but I believe I'm due an explanation."

Indeed, in the study of Tim Marcoh is a young girl dressed with perfect preparation for a naked man. Her black heels, hosery, and miniskirt contrast nicely with her white button-up shirt and labcoat. The stethescope she wears highlights her neck's flawless skin well, made further accessable to ogling by the professional bun that ties up all but the snowy bangs framing her face. A coy, calm demeanor and a pair of non-prescription glasses give her Einzbern red eyes a more mature air. The end product is a small lady doctor rather than a little girl playing dress-up.

It can't be said that Doctor Illya doesn't know how to dress herself.

As a side note, Chloe has been forced into a nurse outfit. It's more appropriate for a cosplay convention than a hospital, but she still wears it obediently with an embarassed blush on her face. Naturally, Illya makes sure to burn that adorable image into her memories forever.

"I did promise that, didn't I?" Doctor Loli smiles. "Sorry for making you wait until after dinner. I needed to gather some ingredients for a potion."

"A-A potion... No, I suppose that makes some sort of sense," the red-head falters, then collects himself.

Illya smiles, pleased with his understanding.

"Now that that's settled, strip!"

"Onee-san!"

"Again, please explain."

"Oh, fine," the elder homunculus pouts. "I'm checking to see if you have any magic circuits. If do, you'll probably be capable of Magecraft. Integrating you into the Moonlit World will be easier then."

"And how will you do that, exactly?" Seraphy asks with a hint of impatience.

"With this!" Illya smiles as she energetically pulls a vial from her skirt pocket. The glowing green liquid within shimmers like a miniature lake on a sunny day.

Seraphy takes one glance at the vial and turns his deadpan eyes upon the mini-magus.

"It looks like diluted radioactive sludge from that movie with the mud man."

"It's a potion containting trace amounts of ground-up catalysts imbued with my Prana," Illya frowns. "You strip, drink it, and then lay very still. Your soul will attempt to purge the harmless foreign Prana, causing it to flow outwards from your mouth, throat, and stomach. As it does so, the weak Prana will naturally flow around any magic circuits that may exist due to their superior protection from magical intrusion. I'll be making use of these defense responses to get an accurate read of your basic spiritual structure."

"Won't that miss my arms and legs?" the patient points out.

"We're just seeing if you have any at all first. All naturally occuring magic circuits first form in the head or torso, so I won't miss it if you have any. If you do end up having some, that's when we'll check your limbs," Illya smiles and pulls out a small, plastic-covered syringe filled with the same glowing liquid. "As you can see, I'm prepared."

"There are artificial magic circuits?" Seraphy asks, sharp as ever.

"Yes, but don't expect me to transplant one into you if you weren't born with any circuits of your own. I'm not a doctor yet, and the resulting pain could drive you mad even if I was," the pale skinned girl warns.

Seraphy isn't sure he wants to know how she knows that.

"You make it sound like they're an organ," the teen alchemist grumbles.

"They kind of are. Now strip and drink," she demands before he can think on it too hard. "I have things to do."

"Like what? Not teaching me about the Moonlit World?" he raises a brow, even as he starts removing his clothing.

Chloe trembles cutely off to the side. This will be the first time she sees a man in the nude. It makes her anxious, but she's unable to close her eyes since Illya's sound-proof wind barrier won't let her hear incoming threats.

"Don't be silly," Illya casually dismisses his concerns. "Of course I'm not going to teach you. You're a genius. You don't need it. All you need is a book and the chance to ask questions from an expert."

"I'm pretty sure that's what they call teaching," a topless Seraphy rolls his eyes. "Well, that explains why you came back from your shopping trip with so much ink and paper. You transmuted your knowledge into a textbook. Likely whole."

"That's right," she nods. "I'm a little surprised you're not rejecting the possibility, though."

Which, unlike most things dealing with one Illyasviel, would actually make sense. Transmuting a book one page at a time would also make sense. However, taking a stack of paper and turning it into a textbook in a single go? The amount of skill required to control such a transmutation would be completely absurd.

This, of course, is half the reason why Seraphy's certain she can do it.

"Why would I? It's only four or five times more difficult than transmuting a stack of fliers. I could do it with about a week of work, and you're about as smart as I am no matter how you look at it. If I can become as good as a State Alchemist in a few years while studying part time, then what about someone who's been immersed in alchemy since the day they were born?"

"Which is impressive by itself. I'm smart by design. That a natural born human can rival the Einzbern craft is really abnormal," Illya nods matter of factly instead of admitting she cheated with Wishcraft.

"Is it safe to assume your family's craft leans heavily on human transmutation, then?" Seraphy sends a sharp look the girl's way.

"Yes, we specialize in the creation of homunculi," she admits with a shrug. "Our method doesn't require as much in depth knowledge of the human body as Amestrian alchemy, though."

The red haired young man nods with a small grimace. That lines up with what he knows of her. Though he still wants to shout that homunculi and souls aren't real, the evidence has already been shoved in his face. The reality is that magic- no, Magecraft is a thing.

It helps him to rationalize it as just another form of alchemy. There's plenty of schools and methods. Her's just uses an exotic energy source and the rules are a little different because of it.

Maybe it's a good thing Illya hasn't told him about True Magic yet.

Even with these revelations, there's still two things that really bother him about Illya. For all her mysteriousness, she's still a ten year old girl. A ten year old girl made in a lab if she's a homunculus like she claims, but a girl none the less. As far as Seraphy can tell, artificial human is human enough. She's still a person.

The thing is, people have motives. What are hers? He still has no concrete idea of why she's looking for her family.

The other bothersome thing is how at ease she is about killing. He hasn't seen her do it, at least that he can recall, but her threats are no joke. Even when she seems like she's joking, she's not joking. Washing dishes and taking life are the same kind of activity for her.

That comparison isn't exactly accurate as Chloe won't let Illya do the dishes, but the point still stands. Illya's incredible disregard for human life is weird. Is it a product of magus culture like she says, or is it due to her upbringing as an Einzbern? Is it because she walks hand in hand with death as a magus, or is it because she's a maker of homunculi and sees human lives as disposable goods? Is it both? Is it neither? Is there even a difference, and does Illya recognize it if there is?

Seraphy isn't sure it really matters, but he wants to know. He wants to ask and recieve answers, but he also doesn't want to push his luck. Too much of anything is poison, and he's not foolish enough to overdose on curisousity.

"Do your plans require me to perform human transmutation?" he asks instead. "It's taboo for a reason, and I'd rather be alive."

"No, I plan on instating you as the head of the Einzbern Medic Union that I'm making," Illya drops a major bombshell out of nowhere. "Your task will have three parts. One, train the first generation of the Emergency Response Wing and Paramaceutical Wing. Two, research and development of new medicine and medical techniques. Three, administration of the organization. We'll begin once we return to Atelier Einzbern. Nuen will assist you with financial matters and will handle the mystic pharmaceutical teams."

"Hold on," the now nude man holds up a finger in objection. "While I'm already researching the use of alchemy for actual healing, if you want a drug researcher then shouldn't you be making your pitch to Doctor Marcoh? He's the Crystal Alchemist for a reason."

"And that reason is that he's a dog of the military already," she refutes. "I don't want to risk him having more loyalty to the state than to me. He's a good man and I'd hate to have to kill him for talking."

On one hand, Seraphy agrees that Marcoh would have conflicting loyalties. Even if the good doctor didn't, he's a good man who only wants to help others. He's not selfish enough to keep his research a secret unless he's forced, and the military would definitely press him for the Einzbern secrets to 'help the common man.' Keeping him out of it is for his own safety.

Plus, throwing his father figure into the hands of this crazy child does put a bad taste in his mouth.

On the other hand, Seraphy would really like Marcoh's help with handling Illya. Not only because she's more than a handful, but because the girl clearly needs mental help. She seems to care about Marcoh's opinions every now and then, which is more than he can say about anyone who isn't Chloe.

Of course, that could just be because she feels obligated after all the kindness he's shown her. Debts can be paid off. If this is indeed the case, then Seraphy doesn't want to imagine what would happen should Illya ever feel like she's repaid Marcoh's kindness in full.

The redhead takes a breath to center himself, then makes another attempt to convince her that he's not up for the job.

"I've never handled anything more than a surgery team. I don't think I can handle the responsibility," Seraphy admits the true reason for his rejection.

"You'll be legitimately helping people and getting the best environment for your sister's growth. That should be motivation enough to get better at it," Illya turns up her nose at his feeble arguments.

"The best environment? How so?" he asks, hot-cold steel flashing in his eyes.

Illya smiles, knowing she has him now.

After all, little sisters are Justice.

"She'll be in a literal castle with magical defenses and bodyguards. She'll have the funding to learn whatever she wants, eat whatever she wants, and wear whatever she wants. She'll have enough influence by proxy to access almost any research once the Medic Union is running and I'm in the military. There's a town of mundane, normal people nearby who she can play with for her social development. I'm a noble and will be mixing with high society eventually, if she's interested in it. She'll lack nothing, especially not options."

"And legitimately helping people?"

"The idea of the Medic Union is to set up drug stores that double as free clinics throughout the country. The ER Wing will man the free clinics. They'll focus on providing first aid, field medicine, transportation, and keeping people alive long enough to reach a real hospital.

The Pharmacy Wing will focus on developing and selling pharmaceuticals. It's where we'll actually make money. As I said before, Nuen will handle the mystic drug making teams. At least, until I can devise a method for mundane people to make similar products and still prevent them from leaking information."

"... Why would you need mundane people to make magical drugs?" Seraphy picks up on the fishiness of the statement. "And is it really okay to tell me all this? It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since you told me I was a security risk."

"Psh, I've slept since then," Illya waves off his concern. "I realized on the train that I could make use of an Atlas alchemy technique to protect your mind. I'll make a dedicated minor mental partition that'll filter your sensory information for hypnotic effects."

"I'm sorry, but did you just say you're going to _repurpose part of my brain?!_ " he can't help shouting.

"Yes...?" the pale skinned girl blinks, nonplussed. "Why? Is that a problem?"

" _It's a big problem!_ "

"Fine, then I'll cultivate some extra brain cells for the job and stick them on."

"You don't just _stick on_ brain cells!"

"Yes I do. I'm the head of the Einzbern family," Illya raises a brow in challenge. "How do you think Maid Power works?"

"I- _what?!_ "

Maid Power doesn't actually work like that, mostly because it doesn't actually exist. Even so, Chloe's been transmuted to have all sorts of special functions. Some minor brain alterations so she can control them are inevitable.

As to whether extra gray matter was added, even Illya has no idea. The elder homunculus used Wishcraft for it. She doesn't know the process. Cutting open her little sister's head to find out is also off the table.

Well, performing magical brain surgery was a joke anyway. The Mystery that Atlas alchemists use for Mental Partition affects the mind, not the body. Harmful feedback to the body due to misapplication is possible, but it really won't be an issue with what Illya's planning.

Which is Wishcraft, since Illya doesn't know how Mental Partition actually works.

"Anyway, I need to make the magical drugs mundane accessable because I plan to leave Amestris," Illya changes the subject. "Once I find the rest of my family and finish whatever business may be left here, we're going home. You can take over the Medic Union for real, then. My other business ventures will be handled separately."

Seraphy blinks, jaw frozen in place.

Just like that, in the span of ten minutes Illya has become far less mysterious. It turns out that she's still just the little girl who loves her family that he met a month and a half ago. There's just magical underworld culture involved now.

Okay, maybe she's not 'just' anything.

Illya is murderous, weird, and secretive. She's also mischievous, cheerful, outgoing, and playful. She's a mixed bag of child-like qualities, adult responsibilities, and serial killer crazy.

She's not evil, though. She doesn't enjoy hurting people. She doesn't mind it either. She's apathetic to the lives of others, and that may be more scary than if she enjoyed hurting them.

Still, Seraphy is endlessly relieved by her revealed motives. It proves that Illya's love for her family isn't just a cover story. That she really _is_ capable of caring for others.

Now if only she cared about people who aren't her immediate family.

Seraphy works his jaw as he considers that line of thought.

Illya is apathetic, not necessarily evil. She's a child, and therefore still developing. She's smart, powerful, rich, and can bend reality to her whim.

Making sure Illya grows up to be a good person might possibly be his greatest contribution to the safety and development of mankind.

"So," Seraphy says once he finds his voice, "can we go back to how you're going to graft extra-"

"No," Illya denies instantly. "Do you want us to get in trouble for clearly performing human transmutation?"

"This is important!" he insists. "If we could reverse engineer the process, we might be able to help people with nerve damage without having to resort to costly prostetics! Brain damage might even become something we can cure instead of just treat!"

"... The idea has merit, but there are tons of other things I need to translate into the Amestrian alchemy system first. It'll have to wait," she declares decisively.

There's no way Illya is willing to admit she was making things up now. She lets out a mental sigh as she resigns herself to doing extra research when she's already busy.

Truthfully, she already spends too much of her time trying to reverse engineer the effects of her Wishcraft with Magecraft. Even if it's something she enjoys and furthers her family's craft, it isn't immediately useful for her. She doesn't need to worry about energy consumption or time, after all. If it can be done with Wishcraft, why not do it with Wishcraft?

"Then why do you even want the Medic Union?" Seraphy complains, somehow sensing her disinterest. "You're already rich and you plan to leave the country. There's no need for something as rooted as country-wide clinics and pharmacies."

Illya opens her mouth, then closes it. Seraphy can practically see the gears turning as she considers what she's about to say. A minute passes in silence, which only enhances his curiousity.

What could possibly require so much thought? She already said so much because she has a solution for the security issue. Why is this different? Is it connected to her outburst earlier?

Despite his bursting desire to ask questions, he keeps calm and waits. It's a bad idea to rush a person who's willing to fiddle with your brain. That goes double when they're doing it regardless of your consent and you don't have the power to stop them.

"My father," Illya says slows slowly, as if tasting the words before they leave her mouth, "is a mercenary who married into the family. For criminals and mercenaries, free clinics should be a vital neutral ground."

"And you plan to use that to tap into their information networks," Seraphy concludes, "because a soldier's, a rich person's, and a magi's information network won't necessarily overlap with criminals and mercenaries."

"That's right," the girl confirms. "It's possible that we'll be able to find our father with this. He can take care of himself though, so I'm not worried as much about him. Our big brother, on the other hand, is being held by someone who belongs to or has infiltrated the criminal underworld."

"I... see," Seraphy frowns when no more details are given. He'd like to ask more, but he's aware of his own capabilities. It isn't like he can help anyway. Dealing with criminals isn't something he knows how to do, and he isn't interested in learning.

He'll have his hands full with work and his little sister too, and still will once Illya forces him to become the head of a new medical organization. He won't have time to use the Medic Union as an intelligence network. That task will most certainly be delegated to someone else.

"Okay, only one more question before I jam this down your throat," Illya waves the vial playfully. "Chloe's getting really red, and I want to take care of this before she faints."

Seraphy takes a look at the maid dressed as a cosplay nurse. She is indeed red in the face, impressively so given her darker skin tone. She's also trembling and shaking with every shift of his body.

Whoops.

"Ah. Well then," the red head lets out an embarassed cough. "Um, you said you have something to do tonight? What is it?"

"Ha ha, I'm not answering that. Now drink up," Illya says with a smile.

Seraphy takes a long look at the girl. Her smile is pretty fake, but it isn't murderous. He's not sure if she's more or less scary because of it.

Seeing as he has no other option anyway, Seraphy takes the potion and drinks it like he's told. He lays down as intructed and is again treated to the strange spectacle of the glowing green lines that Illya claims are magic circuits. He watches intently as she proceeds to scan him with one hand and transmute a wireframe model that vaguely resembles him with the other.

A glance at Illya's face shows she's still holding onto that fake smile. It's just as he's wondering why when that smile turns impish. Suddenly, all of her magic circuits flare up.

Seraphy blacks out.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is a menace.

Not only did she knock Seraphy out to perform an arcane combination of human transmutation and brain surgery on him without warning, but she left him in Marcoh's study the rest of the night! Nude, on the hardwood floor with only bath towel to cover himself!

Being woken up by Marcoh in the morning was so embarassing that Seraphy almost didn't come to work.

On top of all that, her potion made him freaking _glow_ for twelve hours. It's a good thing he didn't need to be there until nine, but he had to leave late because he still looked radioactive at eight-thirty!

Plus, she never told him whether he had circuits or not!

Just getting to work was a hassle too. Seraphy normally rides to the hospital with Doctor Marcoh, but that obviously wasn't what happened today. Since that wasn't an option, he tried calling a cab. It's the big city, so there's a sufficient taxi system.

At least, there would be if the military hadn't crushed it a week ago since it was a front for a human trafficking ring.

When he finally got here, his boss gave him a reaming for being gone so long and still having the gall to show up late. The intern he had his eye on was taken by a different department in the week he was gone. They stopped serving tuna salad in the cafeteria since their supplier in Dublith burned down.

It's been a long day, and he just can't help feeling like it's all Illya's fault.

"Still not over Illya's prank?" the kindly voice of Doctor Marcoh approaches Seraphy from the side.

"Ugh, don't remind me," the younger man groans. "She's going to get a talking to once I get home."

"Did you ever think that maybe that's why she pranked you in the first place?" Marcoh chuckles.

"It's happened enough times that I can tell the difference," Seraphy huffs sourly. "This is not one of those times."

Marcoh hums in thought, the smile fading from his face.

"Maybe she's looking for some normality? Her trip to Dublith was..."

"Yeah. Maybe," the redhead nods grimly.

Illya's time in Dublith was a lot of things. Uneventful was not one of them.

"I guess I better be getting home," Seraphy sighs. "Who knows what Illya's planning for me now?"

"Walk with me, then," Marcoh offers. "I'm going home soon too. There's just a patient I want to check up on first."

"Huh? They're still not letting you back into R&D?" Seraphy falls in next to his mentor.

"No, they want me to be free of any and all distractions," the elder shakes his head.

"Makes sense. Alchemic R&D is dangerous."

"It is, but I'm halfway convinced that my co-workers were just taking pity on me," Tim Marcoh lets out a self-derisive laugh. "I was quite a mess."

Seraphy isn't quite sure how to respond to that. They've already had a heart to heart about how Illya getting hurt wasn't Marcoh's fault in any way. Despite that, it's easy to see that the elder man isn't really over his guilt.

"Speaking of that, how's Illya doing?" Doctor Marcoh changes the subject. "She's an intelligent and proud child who's used to being independent. I'm worried she's bottling up her feelings."

"She's definitely bottling up her feelings, but it looks like she's recovering," Seraphy says truthfully. Technically.

Illya _is_ dealing with some emotional hurdle that she won't let anyone help her with, but it's not the trauma of violence and hospitalization like Marcoh thinks. Seraphy himself doesn't know what it is, only that it's somewhat familiar. It's also true that she looks like she's recovering, but it could easily be that she's just suppressing whatever it is hard enough to make it seem that way.

He feels a stab of guilt for misleading his father figure, but it's really for the man's own good. Whatever has had the girl wound up for the past week only started after her first 'business meeting.' Getting too wrapped up in Illya's bullshit isn't healthy.

"I see. I'll have a talk with her after dinner," Marcoh says, a measure of determination replacing the weariness in his eyes.

Their short walk ends with the opening of the hospital room. In it is the patient, comatose and still hooked up to life support machines. Despite the man's grevious injuries, what Seraphy sees still stuns him.

The patient's skin is flawless in a way Seraphy's only seen on the Einzbern girls. His face is handsome, and his body finely muscled. If it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest, Seraphy would assume he's a Greek sculpture... only better.

Serapy doesn't dare ask about this man's information when it hasn't been assigned to him. Doctor-patient confidentiality aside, this is a military hospital. Seraphy can only work here due to Doctor Marcoh's good reputation and his own continued good behavior. There's no need to ruin that.

But by all that's good in the world does he want to know this man's name.

"This is Sargent Gary-Stu Kent," Marcoh reveals the information of his own accord, surprising his protoge. "He's the one who gathered all the important information about the slaving ring so it could be shut down."

"A hero, then. I'm guessing he's well liked?" Seraphy asks even as he assists his old mentor with the checkup, half out of habit and half out of eternal gratitude.

"They call him the Perfect Man," Marcoh nods solemnly, "He seems to be a genius talent in all fields, and has an answer for everything. He's charismatic enough that those jealous of him tend to come around. Modest, too."

"And you?" Seraphy raises a brow.

"I think that Amestris has lost a fine man," the elder medical expert replies generously. "The chance of him recovering from his coma is almost none, and even if he does he'll never walk again. Stab wound severed his spinal cord."

Before Seraphy can start making plans to weasel alchemic secrets from Illya about the growth of nerve tissue, a woman voices her surprise from behind them.

The doctor pair turn to see a full-figured lady who is quite startled. She wears a long black dress that somehow only highlights her hips and thighs. A thick jacket with fur trimmings at every openning is zipped up over her chest... snugly. Her black gloved hands hold a small bundle of daffodils, her purse dangling from the crook of her elbow.

Despite being dressed with such dark colors, it all coordinates well with her dark hair, muave eyes, and full, red lips.

Not to mention her flawless skin. Really, Seraphy doesn't want to mention it. First Illya and Chloe, then Mister Perfect, and now it's Miss Hourglass. Is everyone going to poke at his insecurities today?

In the privacy of his mind, Seraphy decides to blame Illya for this too.

"Doctor Marcoh, I wasn't expecting to see you," the woman's face eases into a weak smile. From the flowers in hand, her less than cheery smile, and the way her eyes keep slipping toward the patient, it's pretty obvious what she's here for.

"I can't say I was expecting you either, Inspector Winters," the old man returns wryly. "Come in, I'm sure Gary would appreciate those flowers a bit longer if they were watered."

"Yes... Yes, I think he would as well," she replies, her smile becoming more genuine.

Winters steps into the hospital room and walks to the patient's bedside. She carefully sets the daffodils in the vase on the stand. Turning to the comatose redhead, she brushes Gary's messy bangs aside. Her nail slowly, delicately, almost affectionately, traces across the man's forehead.

"And this is...?" Seraphy whispers to the senior doctor.

"Lunaria Winters. Private Investigator who 'used to be' Internal Affairs," Marcoh whispers back, softer. He then coughs, successfully gaining the woman's attention.

"Miss Winters, I still have a few routine checks to do," he explains with a genuine smile on his face. "It'll only be a few minutes. Why don't you have a quick chat with my colleage here to pass the time?"

"I, uh-" Seraphy stumbles, not really expecting to be pushed into socializing.

"I think I'd like that," the woman smiles appreciatively at Marcoh. She swaps places with him, putting her beautiful self far closer to Seraphy than the teen is comfortable with.

"Inspector Lunaria Winters," she offers a hand.

"Doctor Seraphy Royce," the teen takes it.

"Ah, so you're the prodigy apprentice that Doctor Marcoh keeps bragging about," she replies, eyes trailing up and down the teen's body with keen appraisal.

Not feeling entirely comfortable with the way she's looking at him, he decides maybe socializing was the right idea.

"If you don't mind me asking, what relation do you have to the patient?"

"He's my cousin. Why, were you worried?" Lunaria teases in her silky, sultry voice.

Very briefly, Seraphy wonders what her voice would sound like screaming his name. He shakes it off, however. He has no time for romance right now, no matter what his horomones think.

Besides, this woman's at least twenty-two. Seraphy's sixteen. He can't see it working out, even without all the things he needs to do.

"A little," Seraphy decides to play along. He pastes a dry and playful smile on to help even the odds. "I hear he's well liked. If you were a crazy ex who just couldn't take it anymore..."

"I can see that happening, too," Lunaria grimaces. "Looks like I'll have to request some security."

"Er... right," the teenage genius is thrown off guard by the tone shift. Thankfully, the buxom woman notices.

"Sorry," she shakes her head with exasperation. "That boy's heart is in the right place, but he's always making trouble for others. The amount of times I've had to clean up after him... Ugh! And now he's in the hospital."

"I know exactly what you mean!" Seraphy replies suddenly, surprising even himself. He lets out an embarassed cough, then calmly continues. "I have three little sisters at home. Between the three of them, I have no shortages of messes."

"I've got five little brothers. I'm sorry," Lunaria looks at him with genuine empathy and pity.

They both sigh.

"Speaking of little sisters, I came across this pair of Ishvalan girls handing out fliers of their missing family. Here, take a look," she digs into her purse. She pulls out the two pieces of paper and unfolds them for Seraphy to see. Not wanting to admit that he knows that troublemaker Illya right now, he looks them over as if he hadn't seen them before.

What he sees sends his mind reeling.

While the adopted brother flier is still the same, the white haired mother flier is gone. In its place is a black haired man with a short stubble and dead eyes. This is more than likely the Einzbern girls' father.

Why now, though?

Illya and Chloe didn't put out fliers for him until now, prioritizing their mother instead. That always struck Seraphy as strange. If they're looking for both their parents, why aren't they putting out fliers of both?

Even if the father is a superhuman, supernatural mercenary, surely you'd look for both at once, right?

"You said they're handing out fliers, right?" Seraphy asks, doing his best to mask his caution. "I see a father figure and a brother figure, but no mother. Why is that?"

"No idea. They were putting up a mother flier until a week ago, but today they've stopped and switched to looking for... this guy," she shakes her head with faint disdain.

"Huh. Weird."

Seraphy doesn't say more than that, but his mind is already shaken. He may not know why they only chose to look for one parent at a time, but he's already put together the reason for the swap.

The girls go to Dublith and find their brother is in the hands of the mob. They get into a huge fight, which lands them in the hospital even though they can both regenerate. The day after waking in said hospital, Illya's stressed behaviors suddenly skyrocket. She tries to hide it, of course, but she's off her game. Then they come back to Central and start searching for their father instead.

It is exceedingly likely that their mother is dead. Illya clearly knows and is distraught about it, but refuses to talk. Chloe doesn't seem so troubled, so she may not know or cannot accept it in her madness.

Shit.

"If you don't mind, could I have these two fliers?" Seraphy only barely keeps his voice from wavering.

"Go ahead," she hands them over, along with a business card. "Call me if you find anything. I'll let the girls know the good news."

"Right," he nods. "I'll give you a call if there's anything to talk about."

"I'm done," Marcoh informs as he rejoins them. "Thank you for your patience, Miss Winters. I trust Doctor Royce here kept you sufficiently entertained?"

"He did. Thank you for taking care of my cousin," she replies politely. "Will either of you be staying long?"

"I really must be getting home, but...?" Marcoh looks over at his protoge.

"I need to get home as well. Little sisters, you understand," Seraphy shakes his head and shrugs.

"I think I do," she replies with a knowing smile.

"Well then, good day Miss Winters," Marcoh gives his farewells, waving gently as he passes out the door.

"Goodbye Miss Winters," Seraphy follows suit.

"So long, Doctor Marcoh," she returns. "Oh, and Doctor Royce?"

"Hm?" Seraphy stops at the exit at her prompting. He turns his head to see what she wants. He finds a charming smile that steals his breath away.

"I wouldn't mind if you called for something other than work."

"A-ah, yes. I'll keep that in mind," he stumbles through his blush.

It takes him half the trip home to remember anything other than Lunaria's sultry smile.

* * *

Illyasviel von Einzbern is once more sitting across from a tired and sympathetic looking Seraphy. The missing person fliers lay on the table between them. Chloe stands behind her sister, and the soldiers behind her.

They're still hypnotized, so obviously Chloe did something differently this time.

As far as Seraphy knows, anyway.

"So, what's this about?" Illya raises a brow innocently.

"Look, Illya," Seraphy sighs. "There's no need to hide this from me. You know I've been through something similar."

Inwardly, Illya agrees that the similarities are uncanny. Both lost their mother young, and both now have to care for and raise a little sister. Both went months without a father figure before being sent to Doctor Marcoh, and both have been taken under the man's tutilage to help secure their own futures.

Outwardly, however, she merely presses her lips together for a moment and lets out a long, patient breath.

"Seraphy, I don't have time for this. My father can take care of himself, but my brother is in the hands of criminals. It sucks, but I simply have too much to do to take the time to grieve."

"It's unhealthy," the redhead counters. "Bottling up emotions like that is bad for your health."

Illya can feel Chloe's gaze on her back. She can already tell that Chloe won't let it go now. As Illya's maid and familiar, it is literally Chloe's purpose in life to protect her master's health and happiness.

Chloe will follow orders for almost anything, but allowing Illya to harm herself is not one of them.

Seraphy's semi-amused gaze reveals that he knows it, too.

"Damn you!" Illya curses at him for his trickery. "Fine! I'll take some time off as soon as I have some. But-"

"To grieve or talk to someone about it, right?" Seraphy interrupts. "The latter helps if you're not ready for the former."

Illya glares at him and growls. The redhead calmly raises a brow. Illya grits her teeth when she hears Chloe shifting behind her.

" _Yes_ , to do one of those things. But if my big brother gets hurt because of time wasted-"

"I understand," Seraphy cuts her off again, this time with an accepting nod and a serious look.

"Good," Illya frowns while suppressing the urge to fuse him with the couch.

Chloe is standing behind her sister, so Illya doesn't see her tension visibly evaporate. She mouths a silent thank you to Seraphy through her relieved smile. It seems that the maid was quite worried.

Considering what the magus girl is capable of, Seraphy finds the he is also relieved. No one wants to find out what Illya would do if she snapped. She could probably make it rain fire breathing boulders or something.

Seraphy mentally confirms that yes, fixing Illya's mental issues might just be the greatest contribution he can make to mankind.

"Chloe, make sure she keeps her word, okay? Doctor's orders," he says just in case.

"Understood!" the maid salutes cutely.

"Damn it, Seraphy! Damn you and your red hair!" Illya pouts harder at Chloe's clear 'betrayal.'

"Now that that's taken care of, what were the results of the testing? Can I learn Magecraft? Also, you said there's a book for me to read?" Seraphy smoothly changes the subject, ignoring Illya's half-playful grumbling. It's familiar enough that he knows he isn't about to be killed for his offense.

Besides, that would defeat the purpose of recruiting him.

"Good news, you can both learn and practice Magecraft. Bad news, you only have two circuits of slightly below average quality, so you'll probably never be any good," the homunculus girl explains with undertones of griping. She waves her hand at the table as if tossing a book onto it.

A book appears on the table with a small thump, as if she had really tossed it there.

Seraphy's jaw drops. He closes his mouth, producing a light click when his teeth hit each other.

That book hadn't been on the table a moment ago. Even if Illya turned it invisible somehow, it wouldn't have made a thump-type sound upon being revealed. However, she couldn't have brought it in with her. He saw her as she entered. Her hands were empty and gave no indication that she was holding anything. She didn't set anything down when she sat, and her hands formed fists more than once during their exchange.

Plus, he's supposed to be hypnotism-proof now.

Unless she _didn't_ do that brain modification last night, in which case he may have to re-evaluate how much he can trust Illya... again.

"What?" he half asks, half whimpers as he debates whether his knowledge of how reality functions is being challenged. "Was... was I hypnotized?"

"No, I already added the protections against that," Illya assures him while looking extraordinarily smug. "It won't work for me or Chloe since we're too far from normal humans right now. Lucky you~"

Seraphy chooses to ignore how Illya makes being different from normal humans a temporary thing.

"Okay. Sure. Where did the book come from, then?" he tries very hard not to freak.

"It was astralized and strung along a tether tied to my hand."

"Astr- _that doesn't explain anything._ "

"It was intangible," Chloe supports helpfully.

" _Then how did she move it?!_ " Seraphy throws his hands up in the air, then stops and settles into a thinking pose. "No, wait. If we assume 'astralized' objects can only interact with items that have a spiritual presence, then I guess it would be easy if you used some astralized twine. No need to worry about the furniture or gravity."

"Ding ding ding! That's right!" Illya opens her arms wide. She then puffs out her chest to brag. "It was actually pretty hard, you know? I had to infuse a lot of Ether since books don't normally have souls!"

"I... suppose it would indeed be difficult to permanently bond certain organic compounds to processed plant matter," the redhead agrees, puzzled at how something like sweet oil of vitriol or anisole might help at all.

"No, the elem- just read the book! It'll make sense!" Illya demands, pointing imperiously at said book.

Seraphy looks at the book. The book has a strip of leather wrapped across the side. That strip of leather ends in a metal latch on the front, keeping it closed. The keyhole on the latch assures him that it's locked... somehow. He's neither a locksmith nor a mage.

For now.

"The book is a mystic code tuned to your specific spiritual signature. Only you and I can open it," Illya explains. "Just in case, I used a similar Mystery to make it so that the pages are blank to anyone besides us as well."

Somewhat skeptical despite all previous evidence, Seraphy brushes his thumb against the lock. There's a soft click, followed by the latch popping up off the other piece of metal attached to the front cover. Pulling the lock and leather binding aside, he finds that the metal square on the book's front is completely flat and without anything for the lock to actually hold on to.

It's a magic book, so he's not entirely sure what he was expecting.

Opening said book brings him to a table of contents, followed by a short introduction and a primer on safety practices. Diagrams and walls of professional text appear as he flips through the pages. In the back he finds a glossary, index, and even a references section.

"I don't suppose you have the books you've referenced currently on your person, do you?" he asks wryly.

"No, they're back in the castle," Illya shakes her head. "I have them all memorized, though."

"Really?" Seraphy looks at her in disbelief. "That's more than fifty books! You have page accurate references for direct quotes!"

"Blame my jerk magus grandpa," she crosses her arms and frowns. "He was a jerk."

"For making you study alchemy. Which you enjoy doing," he deadpans with even more disbelief than before.

"No, for dumping the whole Einzbern library directly into my brain," she refutes. "It hurt."

"Right. I guess it must since you didn't do it to me," he says, changing things up by mixing his disbelief with both relief and dissapointment.

"I should have, but I didn't," Illya grumbles, not bothering to mention that the spell doesn't work anymore. "Is there anything else? I need to call Nuen to make sure we got our iron shipment."

Seraphy has plenty that he wants to talk about. However, all of it is connected to subjects Illya is putting off for later.

"No, nothing," Seraphy shakes his head.

"Then I'm going."

The elder homunculus hops to her feet and starts to leave, the younger turning to follow once she's passed. The sound suppression barrier and Flashpoint hypnosis are dismissed with a thought. The soldier escorts blink once or twice as they come to.

Seraphy makes sure the book is closed and locked before they're fully aware again. No need to take chances of them growing suspicious. He makes sure to send them thankful nods as they also turn to leave, though. Their work is quite dangerous.

Illya's voice can be heard on the hallway phone soon after her procession leaves the room. Chloe's humming accompanies the stove being turned on. The sound of Marcoh and Corniche's tea party filter down from upstairs. Birds chirp outside the window, and the neighborhood kids shout as they play in the street.

Now sitting alone, Seraphy realizes it's unsettling how sounds of life are cut off to make way for magus business. Perhaps, he muses, it's the only way that magus culture can survive. Given how enamored they are with walking next to death...

Seraphy sighs.

The last twenty-four hours have been very trying, and it's all Illya's fault.

* * *

 **Next: Heaven's Feel 16**

 **Then: Heaven's Feel 17**

 **After That: Freezing Arc~**

 **McDougal focused arc beginning on Freezing 04. Planned to run anywhere between 5 and 10 chapters. As with all things in life, may involve giant robots.**


End file.
